<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Coffee with the Prince by AvieAwesome</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26329609">Coffee with the Prince</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvieAwesome/pseuds/AvieAwesome'>AvieAwesome</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Ball</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cell Games Saga, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Seven Year Gap (Dragon Ball), Slow Burn, Smut, Three Year Gap (Dragon Ball)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:02:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>36,043</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26329609</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvieAwesome/pseuds/AvieAwesome</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Equally stubborn housemates Vegeta and Bulma finally learn they have something in common: enjoying a cup of coffee. And maybe they'll even learn to have a civil conversation with each other. This will revolve around Bulma and Vegeta sharing coffee and conversation as their relationship grows and develops over the years.</p><p>💜💜3RD PLACE WINNER IN “ROMANCE” IN THE PRINCE AND THE HEIRESS 2020 ANNUAL AWARDS💜💜</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bulma Briefs/Vegeta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>112</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>345</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. First Sip</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>It's always been my headcanon that Vegeta and Bulma both enjoy a good cup of coffee. And I've had a lot of deep conversations with people I love over a good cup of coffee. And so the idea for this fic was born. Please enjoy my first fanfic in this fandom in a VERY long time, celebrating one of my favorite fictional couples :-)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>Bulma’s alarm on her watch beeped shrilly, startling her out of her deep concentration. <em>Oooo. Lunchtime. </em>She sighed and rubbed her temples with her fingers – she could feel a headache coming, and hopefully some food and caffeine would halt it in its tracks. Putting her tools down and stretching, Bulma realized how hungry she was. When she was working, it was easy to focus on nothing but her current project. Hence the need to set alarms on her watch so her mother wouldn’t chide her for missing meals. Glancing down at the bot on her worktable, she pointed at it and waggled a finger. “I’ll tackle you after lunch.”</p><p>Walking the labyrinthine halls of Capsule Corporation, she could smell her mother’s cooking before she came anywhere close to the kitchen. Delicious aromas wafting through the halls made her stomach growl. Panchy enjoyed cooking. She always had. The Briefs had robots who could do any work around the house that Panchy wanted them to, but Bulma’s mother insisted on cooking. Bulma and her father were brilliant workaholics, and Panchy insisted that the family take breaks to eat meals together.</p><p>“Hey Mom! How are you?”</p><p>Panchy took a break from stirring a pot of marinara sauce to wave delightedly at her daughter. “Hello dear! It’s almost ready!”</p><p>Dr. Briefs had beaten her to the kitchen. Scratch was lounging in his lap, stretching lazily and yawning. Her father’s brow was furrowed in concentration as he worked on a crossword puzzle.</p><p>“Gotta make another cup first.” Bulma had stayed up too late and woken up too early. Stifling a yawn, she turned on the coffeemaker and dug a mug out of a cabinet.</p><p>“Another cup? Bulma, dear, that’s your third today!” Panchy worriedly cupped her cheeks in her hands. “I don’t want my little girl working too hard!”</p><p>Bulma laughed. “Oh, I’m fine! I’m so close to a breakthrough on making Vegeta’s bots even more durable in combat. With any luck, he won’t need to pester me so often to fix them.” <em>Will he thank me? No. My genius is so unappreciated. </em>She had to admit she was becoming quite a caffeine addict. It had begun since her houseguest had moved in. Her very demanding houseguest. She poured herself a cup and smelled deeply. <em>Mmm. Nothing beats the smell of freshly roasted coffee. </em>On top of her normal workload, she was now catering to a spoiled prince.</p><p><em>Speak of the devil.</em> Vegeta wandered into the kitchen, barely sparing Bulma or her parents a glance. Most of the time, he ignored them. Unless he needed something. <em>“Woman, fix this bot immediately!” “Woman, something is wrong with the Gravity Machine!” Woman, your mother didn’t leave enough dinner! Operate this phone and order food!” </em>Bulma tried to ignore the fact he was shirtless. That sweat glistened on his perfectly muscled chest. That he…</p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p>“Huh?” His gravelly voiced startled her.</p><p>“What is that?” Vegeta pointed at her mug, glowering at the dark liquid with his equally dark eyes. He had a perpetual scowl. Food, beverages, and other inanimate objects were not immune to his irritated glares.</p><p>“This? Oh, it’s coffee. It has a lot of caffeine in it and helps keep you awake and more alert. Want to try some?”</p><p>He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. <em>Such a chatterbox.</em></p><p>“Do you want it black? Or do you want some creamer in it?”</p><p>He shrugged. <em>Honestly, an incredible conversationalist.</em></p><p>“Well, let’s see what we have.” Bulma dug through the refrigerator. Since their houseguest had arrived, the Briefs had to keep their refrigerator filled to the brim with food. <em>And does he thank us? Of course not. Jerk. </em>“French vanilla, caramel, hazelnut…”</p><p>“Woman, I don’t know what any of those words mean.” Vegeta’s arms were crossed, his fingers tapping, a tell-tale sign he was running out of his very limited patience.</p><p>Bulma rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll make yours the same way I make mine. You seem like a caramel kind of guy!”</p><p>And, of course, no response.</p><p>“Okay then! You’re in luck – I brewed enough for two.” Bulma put her own mug on the counter and got a second cup. Vegeta watched her curiously as she poured some coffee into the cup for him. She poured in some caramel creamer in both mugs, stirred them, then handed Vegeta his. “Well? What do you think?”</p><p>He sipped it. “It is adequate.”</p><p>“Wow! That almost sounded like a compliment.”</p><p>“Tch.” He took another sip. “It tastes much better than the swill I’m used to.”</p><p>“Well, it’s good to know I can brew a cup of coffee that’s better than swill.” Taking a sip out of her own mug, Bulma sighed contentedly. “This is my third cup today. Working on making your bots even better, mister.”</p><p>And the scowl deepened. “If they were engineered properly to begin with, they would have no need of your work and continuous improvements.”</p><p>“Excuse me?” Bulma put her mug on the counter so she could put her hands on her hips and look outraged. Because she felt she could only properly express how outraged she felt with her hands on her hips. “I wasn’t expecting a bratty prince to use our Gravity Machine for hours every day! And blow up my bots every time he has a temper tantrum!”</p><p>His dark eyes flashed. “Your mudball’s failure to properly prepare for threats is not my concern.”</p><p>“Oh, I would say that it is, considering you’re staying here on this mudball.” The smell of delicious marinara sauce was maddening. Bulma was hungry. And when she got hungry, she got angry. And when Vegeta was around, she seemed to get even angrier. She knew he was going to turn his attention away from her and open the fridge. That was the only reason he had come in here – his continuous quest to consume calories. He put his mug down on the kitchen table and turned his attention to stuffing his face. And when his back was turned, his head in the fridge scouring for food, she grabbed his coffee and dumped it in the sink.</p><p>As soon as he heard the liquid splash, he turned around, slamming the fridge, one of his hands angrily clutching a leftover sandwich, his eyes glaring daggers. “Woman! Make me another cup! I demand it!”</p><p>Bulma marched up to him, unafraid, poked a finger in his chest, and glared right back. “Make it yourself, you jerk!”</p><p>With superhuman speed, Vegeta swept around her, grabbed her mug, and dumped the contents out in the sink with a triumphant smirk. He strode out of the kitchen to angry squeals, confidently chomping on his stupid sandwich.</p><p>Dr. Briefs still concentrated on his crossword puzzle.</p><p>Panchy sighed. “Well, I guess we can all eat now.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Pumpkin Spice Tragedy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Briefs household runs out of Pumpkin Spice creamer. Vegeta actually shares... a feeling.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all for the kudos and comments! I'm having a great time writing this one.</p>
<p>PS - I much prefer Salted Caramel flavors over Pumpkin Spice ;-)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bulma didn’t get a lot of free time. But when she did, she enjoyed curling up on the couch, snuggled under a warm blanket with a cup of coffee, and reading. And she enjoyed reading romance. <em>Oh, who am I kidding? I just like the smutty parts.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>“Her eyes admired his beautiful figure. His exquisitely crafted suit was perfectly tailored for his body, and it matched his deep blue eyes. He turned and noticed her. Their eyes met across the dance floor, and even though couples twirled and spun in brilliantly choreographed circles, they were not distracted – they only had eyes for each other. Blushing, she smoothed her skirts out of nervousness. The music seemed to swell to match her beating heart. He came towards her. ‘Is this really happening?’ she asked herself. He took her hand and leaned down to kiss her, taking her…”</em>
</p>
<p>“Woman! Where is the Pumpkin Spice creamer?”</p>
<p>She slapped her book down on her lap in annoyance. “I don’t know! And how many times do I have to remind you – my name is BUL-MA. Not WO-MAN.”</p>
<p>
  <em>“… taking her cheeks softly between his hands, and their first kiss was everything she had…”</em>
</p>
<p>Spiky hair poked around the corner of the living room, followed by a grumpy face. “Did your mother get some at the store?”</p>
<p>The book slapped her lap again. “Did you write it on the grocery list?” Bulma and her had been attempting (and failing) to get Vegeta to use their family grocery list, a magnetic notepad on the refrigerator door. It wasn’t difficult. For Kami’s sake, there was even a pen right there next to it. <em>You want something from the store? You write it on the family grocery list. Are you a spoiled prince who needs more Pumpkin Spice creamer? You write it on the family grocery list.</em></p>
<p>“No, I told you to write it on the grocery list! Yesterday! Because you drank the last of it!” He pointed a finger accusingly like she was being interrogated in court. And she was guilty. Guilty of forgetting to write down Pumpkin Spice creamer on the family grocery list.</p>
<p>Sigh. <em>Busted.</em></p>
<p>“Fine. You’re right. But you could have very well written it yourself!”</p>
<p>Vegeta rolled his eyes and ducked his head back around the corner. The spiky hair withdrew. “I suppose I can tolerate Salted Caramel Mocha.”</p>
<p>“Oh, thank goodness. I was really concerned about you making it through this difficult time and your Pumpkin Spice deprivation.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Now, back to the smut.</em>
</p>
<p>The spiky hair and grumpy face came back around the corner.</p>
<p>
  <em>Nope.</em>
</p>
<p>His eyes were narrow. Suspicious. “What are you reading?”</p>
<p><em>Oh, Kami. I have to explain smut to this guy. </em>“It’s a romance novel. About a beautiful serving woman who falls in love with a handsome lord, and they overcome the odds to…”</p>
<p>“Hmph. Sounds like drivel.” To her surprise, Vegeta sat on the couch next to her, taking a sip of his supposedly inferior Salted Caramel Mocha coffee. Bulma tucked her legs closer, because if there was one thing Vegeta needed in abundance, it was space. He glanced at her. “Why do you read something so useless?”</p>
<p>Bulma sighed. <em>Do I really have to defend my taste in literature to this guy? Why does he care? </em>“In case you haven’t noticed, my life is pretty stressful. It’s fun to have an escape and read non-stressful things.”</p>
<p>“Sounds like you don’t want to deal with your problems.”</p>
<p>“Sounds like you haven’t ever read a good romance with incredible sex scenes.”</p>
<p>The Prince of all Prudes cringed and Bulma could swear the tips of his ears were turning pink. “You are so vulgar.”</p>
<p>“Sure am.”</p>
<p>Vegeta stared into his cup, obviously lamenting his lack of Pumpkin Spice. “I don’t understand this planet. Why is there now Pumpkin Spice and Salted Caramel flavors?”</p>
<p>“Well… it’s a different season. It’s fall now. People associate fall with different flavors. Things that make you feel warm and cozy!” Bulma sniffed deeply over her own cup. “Doesn’t that just make you think of fall?”</p>
<p>“If you say so," Vegeta grumped. His fingers tapped the mug. He was nervous, on edge. He always seemed to be. Seeing him sit down was a rarity. Vegeta was usually standing, always alert. A creaking floorboard (usually Scratch meandering, looking for a person to pet him), the front door opening and closing, Bulma’s voice coming through the intercom system. It made him flinch.</p>
<p>Bulma wasn’t exactly sure how to relate to the uptight prince. But she felt she had to say something and break the silence. “I have a hard time relaxing, you know. My mind is always racing. So… reading helps me. I like reading about other people’s lives and their adventures and their relationships because it helps me forget about all of my stress.”</p>
<p>His dark eyes pierced her. She could see how his intense black orbs could be unnerving to people, but they weren’t to her. She was used to Goku’s, after all. And for all of Vegeta’s anger and aggression and sarcasm, he did have his quieter moments, where she could see in his eyes he was considering her and what she was saying. Goku had hinted to her that the prince had a difficult past. Bulma assumed concepts like "<em>sharing your thoughts and feelings"</em> and <em>"relaxing and having a nice conversation with a friend" </em>were foreign to him. But when she looked in his eyes… sometimes she could see the feelings he couldn’t verbally tell her.</p>
<p>Vegeta’s head suddenly snapped away. He never made eye contact with her for very long. Almost as if he was shy. “And does drinking coffee help you relax?”</p>
<p>“Yup! Especially this time of year. When the weather is cooler and the leaves start to change color…” Her voice trailed off as she took a slow sip of coffee. “Fall is wonderful.”</p>
<p>“I find coffee does the same to me as well,” Vegeta quietly replied.</p>
<p>Bulma couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. <em>He shared a feeling with me. An actual emotion</em>. “Well, if you ever want to relax and read some smut, let me know. I have a great collection!”</p>
<p>“I don’t have any interest in reading your filth!” He quickly stood to his feet, gripping his mug in a death grip. Somehow, his posture seemed even straighter than normal. “I am going to write Pumpkin Spice creamer on the ridiculous grocery list. Since you failed your responsibility.”</p>
<p>And as he walked away, Bulma couldn’t help but smile.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Coffee, Whiskey, and Cookie Dough</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Breakups suck. But coffee, alcohol, ice cream, and unexpected compliments can help you feel better.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all for the kudos and comments! I have the fic plotted out and am trying to write a chapter or two a week. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been a long time since Bulma was this angry.</p><p>She and Yamcha had argued before, about him being careless, frivolous, or forgetful. Never about him being unfaithful.</p><p>
  <em>How dare he cheat on me? How dare he?</em>
</p><p>She took her fury out on the poor kitchen door, slamming it behind her as hard as she could. For good measure, she also slammed down the bottle of liquor on the kitchen counter. Not hard enough to break it, but enough to show the world she was mad. She had stopped at the liquor store on the way home even though her parents owned plenty of alcohol. It felt natural to go buy booze when she’d just gone through a terrible breakup.</p><p>“That bastard… that absolute bastard.” She glanced at her watch and saw it was 2:45 in the morning. <em>Wow. We must have been breaking up for hours. Time flies by when you’re screaming at each other. </em>Bulma knew she was too upset to get any sleep. If she went to bed, she’d change into her pajamas and clutch a pillow and cry and scream and get a headache.</p><p>Fuck that.</p><p>Bulma Briefs didn’t cry over men who broke her heart.</p><p>Her eyes were stinging with tears and she wiped them. There wasn’t any point in crying. She’d already cried and yelled for hours. Their relationship was never going to come back from that, and after finding out he was cheating on her, she didn’t want it to.</p><p>She switched the coffee pot on. <em>Time to make a drink, turn on some trashy television, and stop thinking for a few hours.</em></p><p>“Do you have any idea what time it is?”</p><p>She’d know that irritated tone anywhere. A very sleepy and very angry Vegeta stood in the kitchen doorway, holding his digital alarm clock. Maybe <em>holding</em> wasn’t the right word. Maybe <em>clutching it with absolute fury</em> was more accurate.</p><p>Uh oh.</p><p>“Shit. Did I wake you up? I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to.”</p><p>“Do you have any idea how important sleep is when you’re training as hard as I am? To save your stupid planet?” He pointed at the alarm clock. “And it.” Point. “Is.” Point. “Two.” Point. “Forty-seven.” Point. “In the morning!” One final point for good measure. And just to show he could slam things in anger too, he tossed the alarm clock on the kitchen table. It bounced sadly, making a mechanical “clang” in protest.</p><p>She understood why he was upset. He had a right to be. Resting was important when he was pushing himself physically. And Bulma knew he had problems falling asleep. She’d caught him on their couch more than once, exhausted but clearly unable to rest, aimlessly searching through the television channels for something that caught his interest.</p><p><em>How do I fix this? </em>His arms were crossed, and he was clearly waiting for her to say something. When Vegeta was angry, he reminded Bulma of Scratch. They would both puff up, their black hair appearing even spikier than usual. They would hiss, occasionally growl at her. And, just like Scratch, she usually had to bribe Vegeta with treats to make amends with him.</p><p>“Look. I’m sorry. I should have been quieter and I know your rest is important. I forgot about your super freaky Saiyan hearing. Can I make it up to you?”</p><p>“And how do you plan to do that?”</p><p>“Did you know that you can make some amazing alcoholic drinks with coffee? I’m going to make myself one. You’re more than welcome to share a cup with me.” She winked. “You know I make a darn good cup of coffee.”</p><p>
  <em>That glint in his eye. He’s intrigued.<br/>
</em>
</p><p>“Woman, why would I want something with caffeine at this time of the day? And why would I want to spend time with you?”</p><p>Bulma began brewing a cup of coffee, making enough for two. She knew he’d give in. He always did. Unscrewing the whiskey bottle, she gave him her very best flirtatious smile. “I know you. Since I woke you up, you’re going to get an early start on your training. Might as well have an absolutely delicious cup of coffee with an absolutely beautiful woman to begin your absolutely early day!”</p><p>If he rolled his eyes any harder they would have rolled out of his skull. “Tch. Fine.” He sat at the table. With his arms crossed, he looked like a sulking kid who wasn’t allowed to leave the table to go play until he’d eaten his vegetables. He watched her out the corner of his eye, obviously trying to keep his interest hidden from her.</p><p>She pulled out two large mugs, pouring coffee into each. Then came the whiskey and brown sugar. And finally, because she was feeling fancy, whipped cream. Proudly, she put her own mug down and then put Vegeta’s mug in front of his grouchy face. “Try it!”</p><p>He sipped it. And then took another, much longer drink. “Acceptable.” Bulma had learned months ago that this was the closest Vegeta would ever come close to saying: “<em>This is amazing Bulma. I appreciate your thoughtfulness and your genius!”</em></p><p>“I’ll get some ice cream out too. Cookie dough okay?”</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>She knew it was his favorite.</p><p>Bulma took two ice cream containers out of the freezer. She scooped out two large portions for herself in a bowl (because calories don’t count when you’ve just been through a breakup) and tossed the entire other container to Prince Grumpy. She knew he’d tear through it in two minutes. Grabbing two spoons and passing one to Vegeta, she sat down across from him.</p><p>The minutes passed by in silence. When Vegeta had first moved in, the silence between them was strained. They had nothing to say to each other. Now that they had gotten to know each other a bit better, the quite was companionable. Vegeta was a quiet guy. And after she had spent most of the night screaming, Bulma was content to be in silence.</p><p>“What’s the occasion?”</p><p>“Huh?” Bulma paused from using her spoon as a shovel to dig out cookie dough chunks. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“The coffee. The alcohol. The ice cream. Why?”</p><p>She sighed. “Well, Yamcha and I broke up.”</p><p>This news apparently evoked no emotion whatsoever in Vegeta, who opened his ice cream container and began to attack the cookie dough deliciousness with a spoon.</p><p>“That’s it? Nothing to say?”</p><p>He stopped shoveling ice cream in his face for a moment and looked at her curiously. “Why would I say anything? He’s a pathetic weakling.”</p><p>“At one point, we were close. We were a good couple. I guess we grew apart and grew up.”</p><p>A few more minutes of silence.</p><p>Tears threatened Bulma’s eyes again. She felt so lonely. Aside from Vegeta and her parents, she hardly had any contact with people she cared about. The guys were training constantly, and she couldn’t hold that against them. Yamcha had felt like her last strong tie to anyone, and it had just been severed. <em>If I had told myself a year ago that I would be sharing cookie dough ice cream and alcoholic coffee with Vegeta to comfort myself after a breakup, I would have laughed. Hysterically.</em></p><p>Vegeta stood from the table. “I’m going to go train.”</p><p>Bulma looked over at Vegeta’s demolished ice cream container and empty coffee mug. “Go ahead. I’ll take care of the dishes and then maybe rest for a bit.” She started dumping empty bowls into the sink. “Thanks for sitting with me. It helped to not be alone.”</p><p>“Bulma.”</p><p>“Huh?” <em>Is the world about to end? Is he about to confess a horrid secret? </em>She turned her attention from the sink to Vegeta. He hardly ever used her actual name.</p><p>His face was turned away so she couldn’t see it. “You deserve better than him. And… I like your hair.”</p><p><em>Um. What?</em> She blinked. She was definitely not expecting Vegeta to compliment her, much less comment on her new hairstyle. “Thank you. That’s very sweet of you to say.”</p><p>And Vegeta walked away. Quickly.</p><p>
  <em>What’s gotten into him? Weird. He didn’t even have that much alcohol.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Sex and Coffee</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This fic has been a slow burn. And now... the smut. :-)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was perfect.</p>
<p>She stared at the capsule in her hand. It had been her secret project for months, and now she finally felt satisfied with it. She would have to test it, of course, but still... she was proud of herself and her accomplishment. <em>Bulma Briefs, you have simply outdone yourself.</em></p>
<p>“What are you working on this late?”</p>
<p>Bulma almost jumped out of her skin as she whirled around in surprise. “Geez, Vegeta! What have I told you about sneaking up on me?”</p>
<p>“Tch. Earthlings have poor hearing.” The Saiyan prince strode into her lab as if he owned it. He was sweaty and barefoot, wearing only his workout shorts. He had two mugs of coffee in his hands. “I made coffee when I saw you awake. Hazelnut.” The first time he had brought her coffee when he noticed the lights on in her lab late at night, she was shocked. It wasn’t very Vegeta-ish to go out of his way to show thoughtfulness. Still, something between them had changed since the Night of Booze and Coffee and Cookie Dough Ice Cream. She’d even describe them as friends. They would seek each other out for conversation and to spend time together. One time, she even convinced him to play Scrabble. (It hadn't gone well, but he'd tried.) Bulma wasn’t sure what it meant yet, but it was a welcome change from when they first became housemates. She appreciated the coffee, but Bulma got the feeling he came into her lab to speak with her and used the coffee as an excuse. Not that she was complaining. And not that he’d ever admit it.</p>
<p>Bulma gratefully took the cup from him and drank deeply. “Oh, this hits the spot. Thanks Vegeta. How did you make it?”</p>
<p>He smirked proudly. Vegeta had become quite proud of his coffee brewing abilities. He took pride in everything he did, which included his talents as a barista. “Hazelnut grounds with a few pumps of chocolate.”</p>
<p>Bulma leaned back against her worktable. “Well, it’s delicious.” She quickly downed her drink. It was good and she was tired. “How’s training?”</p>
<p>He glared at his mug, refusing to meet her eyes. “I push myself continually, yet I don’t feel any closer to reaching Super Saiyan.”</p>
<p>“Hey, you work harder than anyone I know. You’ll get there.” Vegeta faintly blushed and looked away awkwardly. He knew Bulma wasn’t just complimenting him to be nice - it was true. He pushed himself for hours and hours every day. She respected his work ethic.</p>
<p>“I don’t want to talk about it and I don’t need your pity.”</p>
<p>Bulma nodded. “I get it.” She bit her lip. He was embarrassed and she didn’t pity him, exactly. But to put so much work into something and not have the result he wanted must be maddening. “Hey! I have something to show you! A surprise I’ve been working on.” She put her mug down on a nearby table and motioned for him to do the same, then handed him the capsule. “Here!”</p>
<p>Vegeta studied the capsule curiously. Capsule technology seemed to be strange to him still, even after nearly a year on Earth. He pressed the button and lightly tossed it on the floor, waiting for the smoke to clear before he approached the box that appeared. Bulma studied his face carefully as he picked up the box and opened it. His expression was one of complete shock. Vegeta was rarely at a loss for words.</p>
<p>“Well? What do you think? Come on! Tell me!”</p>
<p>Placing the box on the table next to their empty coffee mugs, he carefully pulled out the contents. “This is... battle armor. Incredibly well constructed battle armor. How did you do this?”</p>
<p>Bulma grinned. “I know. It’s amazing, right? I studied the armor that you brought back from Namek as a schematic. The hardest thing to duplicate was the stretchiness! It’s even sturdier than your other suit and I made it lighter and more flexible too. I mean, you’ll have to try it out and I might have to make some adjustments. I want to make sure it holds up for you in a fight. But for now, I’m pretty happy with it.”</p>
<p>Vegeta placed the armor back in the box, running a hand softly over the breastplate. His expression was unreadable. <em>Is he grateful? Is he annoyed? Is he lost in terrible memories of war and fighting for his life? Come on, give me something!</em></p>
<p>“Why did you do this?” he asked quietly.</p>
<p>“Well, I can’t fight like you guys can. I have to contribute to fighting back against the Androids somehow.”</p>
<p>He shook his head. “I understand that. Why did you do this for me? I’ve threatened your planet, killed your friends. Your kindness doesn’t make sense.”</p>
<p>Bulma took a deep breath. It was a fair question. “I guess it’s the same reason I invited you to live with me. If you’re given the chance to change and be a better person, I think you will. You’ve never had the opportunity before.”</p>
<p>She swallowed as the prince approached her. His dark eyes flashed with an emotion she couldn’t identify. He was making her nervous but she stood her ground. Bulma Briefs was not easily intimidated. Not even by moody Saiyan princes.</p>
<p>He hesitated in front of her. “I’m not a good man. You know that. I’ve destroyed planets. Relished in destruction.”</p>
<p>Bulma nodded. “I know that. I won’t excuse it and neither would you. But you can change. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Goku, people can always change.”</p>
<p>His face flashed with sudden anger. “Shut up, Woman. Don’t say that clown’s name.”</p>
<p>And he closed the gap between them and kissed her.</p>
<p><em>Holy shit. I’m kissing Vegeta. </em>He was attractive and she wasn’t blind. Bulma had always wondered what it would be like, and now it was happening.</p>
<p>She shrugged out of her lab coat, letting it fall to the floor. Their kiss deepened. Bulma sat on the edge of her lab table, shoving tools and wires out the way. Throwing her arms around the prince and bringing him in closer to her, she ran her hands through his soft hair. To her pleasure and surprise, he growled.</p>
<p>In one swift motion, he ripped her blouse off. Buttons scattered over the table and the floor. “You asshole!” Bulma scolded. “I liked that shirt.”</p>
<p>Vegeta brought his lips to her ear. In his low, gravelly voice, he murmured: “You’re going to like this more.” He unhooked her bra and tossed it to the ground; his rough calloused hands began toying with her breasts.</p>
<p>Bulma gasped. When she and Yamcha had sex, she was always the one who initiated, the one who was more aggressive. She was content to let Vegeta take the lead. One hand slid to her waist as his mouth tugged at her nipples eagerly.</p>
<p>After a moment, she gently pushed him back. His black eyes searched hers, and she could tell by his expression he was concerned he had hurt her. Bulma began to shimmy out of her skirt and panties and then he understood: she wanted more. She kicked off her heels hurriedly. She took his hand in hers and guided him to her clit. “Just like this,” she whispered. Vegeta was a quick learner. His thumb circled her clit as his mouth attacked hers with renewed desire. <em>Kami, he is good.</em> As his thumb continued to tease her clit, he slipped two fingers in her. Eyelids fluttering closed, Bulma knew she was losing herself. She grinded herself against his hand, wanting more.</p>
<p>Vegeta broke their kiss. Nervousness flashed across his face. “Do you want...?”</p>
<p>“Fuck yes,” Bulma interrupted.</p>
<p>Grinning like a wolf, he quickly stepped out of his training shorts. They landed in a heap with Bulma’s clothes. Kissing her again, their tongues battling, he lifted her without effort. Bulma squealed with surprise. He pressed her to the wall of her lab as her legs wrapped around him. She grasped his shoulders and hissed at the press of freezing steel against her back. The wall was cold and his body was so warm. The sensation was incredible.</p>
<p>And then, in one forceful stroke, he was inside her. He was rough - and Bulma loved it. She moaned loudly and Vegeta pumped faster. With one hand supporting her, his other hand began to slowly stroke her clit. Bulma moaned. Loudly. <em>So fucking glad the walls are soundproof.</em> She knew she was about to orgasm. And when she did, she bit him on the shoulder. With a primal growl, he shuddered and came inside her, murmuring something in Saiya-go that she didn’t understand. He pulled out of her, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other. Still gasping and spent, they relaxed in each other’s arms.</p>
<p>“We should probably get cleaned up.” Vegeta nodded and placed her lightly on the floor. She crossed the room, glad she kept towels in her storage cabinet. Tossing Vegeta one, she pulled out one for herself. Vegeta cleaned himself while she did the same. The prince hurriedly pulled on his shorts. He almost seemed... shy.</p>
<p>"Just throw the towel on the floor. I'll take care of it." Bulma looked sadly at her ruined blouse. She’d have to wear her buttoned-up lab coat for the walk of shame back to her room.</p>
<p>“Bulma, I...” His voice trailed off. He crossed his arms, being typically defensive. “I should not have done that.”</p>
<p>“Huh?” Bulma stopped buttoning her coat and stared at him in bewilderment. “What are you talking about? You seemed to enjoy yourself.”</p>
<p>“I can’t give you a relationship.”</p>
<p>Bulma shrugged. “I just got out of a relationship. I’m not exactly ready for one. Sometimes, a woman just wants good sex.” She winked at him, enjoying watching his face and ears turn bright pink.</p>
<p>“Tch. You are so vulgar.” Vegeta gave her a slight nod. “Good night.”</p>
<p>“Night, Vegeta.” And then he was gone, leaving Bulma with a ruined blouse in her hands, wondering where this would lead them.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. An Order to Go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Vegeta's training plateaus - and he decides a training marathon in space is the solution.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all for the support! The Vegebul community is great &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Vegeta came to her room almost every night. When he didn’t, she knew he was either too battered from training or too frustrated at himself to be around her. And that was fine. She needed her own space too. Bulma never asked how his training was. If he didn't volunteer the information, he obviously didn't want to talk about it.</p><p>Bulma was watching a brainless comedy. She sorely needed a reason to laugh these days. The threat of the Androids constantly lurked in the back of her mind. The first year of preparations and training had come and gone, and she was certain the next two years would pass just as quickly. <em>20% battery remaining </em>flashed across her tablet screen. With a sigh, she scooted over her bed to get closer to the outlet near her desk and plug it in.</p><p>She heard a knock at her door.</p><p>“Come in!” she answered, and Vegeta strode in, closing the door as quietly as he could. Bulma had no idea if her parents knew what was going on between the two, but Vegeta didn't want to invite any awkward conversations or questions. She could certainly respect that. He looked exhausted and bruised. <em>Much better than he usually looks.</em> “I’m almost at a break in my show. Just hold on a second and…”</p><p>He yanked her tablet out of her hands and tossed it on her desk. “I’m not in the mood to wait, Woman.”</p><p>“Ugh! You can be such an asshole,” she complained.</p><p>He practically pounced on her, his hand running under her pajama shirt and over her breasts. “If you think I’m an asshole, maybe I should leave.” He nipped lightly at her neck as his hand teased her nipples.</p><p>“Don’t you dare,” she muttered into his ear.</p><p>“If you insist.” His hand trailed painfully slow down her stomach to waistband.</p><p>“You’re such a tease,” Bulma whined.</p><p>She grabbed at his workout shorts and began to pull them down. His hand gripped at her wrist, softly but firmly. “Not tonight.” <em>Why is he stopping me?</em></p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“Lay back and be quiet," he ordered quietly.</p><p>Bulma lay on her back, feeling his hands trace down her body. Finally, he pulled off her pajamas and her panties, and his thumb began to trace slow circles around her clit. She almost quivered with anticipation when she saw what he was about to do. He saw the desire plainly in her face and smiled that infuriatingly arrogant smile. Before she knew it, his tongue was on her, lapping and playing with her clit. His fingers moved inside of her, achingly deep. She gripped the sheets and closed her eyes.</p><p>
  <em>It isn’t fair what he does to me.</em>
</p><p>And then he sucked on her clit – hard. Bulma gasped at the sudden rush of intense pleasure she felt. Her legs twitched as she clutched her sheets, moaning. She couldn’t take much more. As he alternated between sucking and lapping at her, his fingers pumped faster and faster until he tipped her over the edge. She pulled at his hair as she came, riding out the intense wave of her orgasm. Vegeta gave her an incredibly smug look and roughly kissed her. She could taste herself on his tongue, and sighed contentedly as he pulled away.</p><p>And it was in that moment, while Bulma was still breathing hard and the two stared deeply into each other’s eyes, that Vegeta decided to announce: “I’m leaving.”</p><p>“What?! What the fuck, Vegeta?” Bulma sputtered. Her heart felt like it dropped into the pit of her stomach. Even though there was absolutely no way she could make him budge even an inch, she pushed his shoulders angrily to get him off of her. He obliged and rolled off next to her, laying on his back with his hands folded on his chest.</p><p>“I’ll be back, Woman. I’m taking the ship into space to train.”</p><p>“Well, why didn’t the hell didn’t you say that to begin with?” she snapped. Bulma took a deep breath. His words had taken the breath from her lungs.</p><p>Vegeta pointedly stared at the ceiling and not at her. “I… I need to focus without any distractions.”</p><p>He didn’t need to mention that <em>she</em> was a distraction.</p><p>Bulma sighed.</p><p>She should have known this was coming.</p><p>It was the same complaint (<em>a very valid</em> complaint) that Chi-Chi had about Goku: he would disappear for months at a time to train. Sure, he loved his wife and his son. But he was a Saiyan. And training and becoming stronger was his obsession. It was part of their DNA.</p><p>“How long will you be gone?” she asked softly.</p><p>He shrugged. “As long as it takes.”</p><p>She poked him in the chest. “Well, I’m not upset. It’s fine.” <em>Liar. </em></p><p>Vegeta looked at her curiously, seemingly genuinely surprised by her attitude. He was obviously expecting <em>How dare you leave me? </em>and <em>I forbid you to leave, you jerk! </em>“I know how you Saiyans are. And your goal while you’re here is to become stronger. I can’t be angry with you for that. But, mister, we really need to work on your pillow talk.”</p><p>“My what?”</p><p>“Pillow talk. After sex, people lay on their pillows and talk. Important things in their lives, stuff about their relationship…”</p><p>He squinted at her in confusion.</p><p>“You know, normal people. Not us.” <em>Since we’re not in a relationship. And I don’t even know what in the hell this is.</em></p><p>He grunted. “Sounds like a waste of time.”</p><p>“Wait. Did you give me amazing oral sex because you thought that would butter me up before you told me you were leaving?”</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vegeta mumbled.</p><p>Bulma burst out laughing. “You’re unbelievable!</p><p>Vegeta looked so embarrassed she thought he was going to hide under her bedsheets. “Whatever. I have to sleep. I’m leaving early. I’ll wake you before I go.” Quickly (and obviously trying to escape her laughter at his expense), he swung his legs over the bed right as Bulma grabbed his arm.</p><p>“No way.” Bulma was sure her grip felt like a butterfly on his arm to Vegeta, but she was holding him as tightly as she could. “You’re going to lay back down and we’re going to cuddle.”</p><p>“Why in the hell would I do that?” he snapped.</p><p>“Because I said so. I’m going to miss being with you, I guess. I’ve gotten used to this.” Nervousness curdled in her stomach. <em>Why would you say that, Bulma? You’re going to scare him off</em>.</p><p>Vegeta sighed very dramatically and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t sleep well. I’ll keep you awake.”</p><p>“Oh, I sleep like a log. Come on.” She patted the mattress next to her, batting her big blue eyes at him.</p><p>He stared at her and she could see the hesitation in his face. For a man who claimed to fear nothing, he certainly seemed afraid of this.</p><p>Bulma wasn’t an idiot. She knew Vegeta was nervous to sleep in her bed for the first time, a step she had hesitated to ask him to take. It would almost, <em>almost</em>, made them seem like a couple that could stand to be around each other instead of just fuckbuddies. <em>Sometimes, they even got along. </em>During the day, they would argue, they would flirt, they would quietly enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes, he would make her unspeakably angry by callous he could be; other times, he could be surprisingly thoughtful in his own, weird way. And at night, they would have sex, and he would leave. It was clockwork. There was barely any conversation afterwards. She’d never asked for him to stay the night before and she knew he would have likely refused her. But now, he was leaving. He could die in outer space, completely alone, and the thought of it formed a lump in her throat. If this was going to be their last night together, she wanted him with her.</p><p>“… Fine.” He got undressed and slowly laid back down next to her. Bulma cuddled up next to him, laying her head on his shoulder, one arm across his chest. He didn’t move away, but she could tell he wasn’t comfortable. He swallowed and took a deep breath, as if he was telling himself: <em>This is fine. Everything about this is fine</em>. And as they lay next to each other, she could feel, gradually, that the physical tension was leaving him. His breathing became regular and she knew he was either asleep or very close to it. Her own eyes closed. And even though he claimed he would keep her awake, she slept soundly.</p><p>“It’s time.”</p><p>And suddenly, it was morning.</p><p>His voice cut through her sleep and woke her up abruptly. The sun was rising and she could see a hint of him in the dim light. Arms crossed, dressed in battle armor, imposing, and eager to leave.</p><p>Bulma stretched and yawned. “I’ll make you some coffee to take with you. Go on out to the ship. I’ll meet you out there.”</p><p>She put on her robe, slipped into her bedroom shoes, and told herself <em>do not show him how upset you are</em>. She understood this arrangement between them, the agreement that their relationship cannot be more than it is. He had flat out told her he wasn’t interested in anything more. Bulma didn’t even think he knew <em>how</em> to have a relationship. She knew how emotionally fucked up he was.</p><p>Then why was she so sad?</p><p>Bulma turned the coffee maker on and began to brew a large cup for him. <em>It’s a vanilla kind of day</em>. She took the creamer out of the fridge and waited for the coffee to finish. Her eyes stung. She was worried for him and knew it was ridiculous – he had taken care of himself in space before. She was dreading the loneliness she knew would come as soon as he left. And she knew all of this was necessary, for his pride and for the safety of the planet.</p><p>It shouldn’t hurt her. But it did.</p><p>She poured the coffee and the creamer into a large thermos and closed it tight.</p><p>
  <em>You’re being dramatic. You’re not a teenager. Just take him the damn thermos.</em>
</p><p>Bulma left the warmth of her house and stepped outside. It was much too cold to be outside only be wearing pajamas and a robe, and she held the thermos in one hand and clutched her robe tightly closed with the other.</p><p>He was waiting for her, expectantly.</p><p>She handed him the thermos, smiling. <em>Look confident. Look excited for him</em>. For a moment, his gloved hand softly covered hers at she handed him his drink. Her heart leapt. <em>Stop doing that</em>.</p><p>“Do you know where all of the capsules in the ship are?”</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>“And you have spare clothes and armor? The new armor I made?”</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>“And you have enough food? And you know I have an incredible coffeemaker installed with lots of goodies for you, right?”</p><p>He nodded again. Then his hand left hers. <em>Don’t cry. Not now.</em></p><p>“Vegeta, I won’t bother you unless it’s an emergency. I know you need to focus. But please, if you need anything…”</p><p>“I understand.” He hesitated for a moment at the door to the ship and looked back at her. “I’ll return.”</p><p>“I know.” She was sure she looked like a mess. Her unruly blue hair unbrushed, her bedroom shoes dirty from walking in the yard, her hands nervously clutched at her robe. “And you’ll be a Super Saiyan.”</p><p>And there was that cocky, arrogant grin. The one that said to Bulma and the world: <em>Damn straight I will be</em>. He entered the ship and the door shut behind him. As it powered up, she stepped away to a safe distance. She watched it began to hover and she knew he would be gone in a few seconds. Bulma closed her eyes and felt a few tears slip. She waited until she could no longer hear the ship, and when she finally opened her eyes, he was gone.</p><p>And she was alone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Only Allowed One Cup a Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bulma discovers that lots of sex with your alien lover can lead to consequences.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bulma knew she wasn’t herself.</p><p>The first thing she noticed was the exhaustion.</p><p>She was no stranger to being tired, and she had the caffeine addiction to prove it. But this was different. It was an exhaustion she felt in her bones. It didn’t matter how early she went to bed, or how many naps she could sneak in during the day. She felt completely drained.</p><p>Then the nausea began.</p><p>It was a constant sickness. From the moment she got up in the morning to when she laid down to sleep at night, she was ill. Food began to repulse her. Even worse, so did coffee. The smell of it brewing was enough to make her sick.</p><p>Her parents were concerned. After Bulma continued to vomit all day for a week, she was concerned too. And, hesitantly, she made an appointment to see her doctor.</p><p>She had a feeling she knew what was different about herself. But she didn’t want to admit it.</p><p>She dutifully drove to her appointment, tapping the steering wheel, reminding herself to breathe.</p><p>They checked her in and led her to a sterile white room, handing her a paper gown to change into. It was scratchy against her smooth skin, and she shifted uncomfortably. Bulma looked at her reflection in a mirror that hung on the door. She looked haggard and exhausted.</p><p>The nurse recognized how nervous Bulma was. Her heart rate was a bit high, probably from anxiety. "Can you tell us why you’re here today?" "How long had have you had symptoms?" And then: “Is there a possibility you could be pregnant?”</p><p>Bulma stared at her clasped hands in her lap. She reminded the nurse (perhaps a bit too defensively) that she was on the pill. And the nurse replied that there is no birth control method that is 100% effective except for abstinence. <em>I know</em>. They asked when her last period was. She didn’t remember; her periods were unreliable. And she agreed to the urine test.</p><p>And then the doctor came in and announced Bulma was pregnant.</p><p>Her body felt like lead.</p><p>The doctor told her, softly, she had options. But Bulma didn’t want to hear it. No, this was her responsibility. She got pamphlets about having a healthy pregnancy and recommendations for prenatal vitamins and an OB/GYN. She had to schedule an ultrasound. The doctor said she was prescribing a pill for the intense sickness she felt. Bulma was only half-listening to the doctor and nodded when it seemed appropriate.</p><p>Bulma decided this wasn’t the best time to tell the doctor the baby was half-alien.</p><p>
  <em>It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.</em>
</p><p>On the drive home, she cried.</p><p>She’d told her parents soon after the appointment. <em>This is easy. This isn't the conversation I’m worried about.</em> They were thrilled, as she knew they would be. Her mother clapped her hands and her father gave that proud smile he had always reserved for his little girl. Neither of them asked who the father was, which proved to Bulma - they knew. Despite how sneaky and quiet Bulma and Vegeta had attempted to be. Her parents wanted to pick out nursery decorations that weekend, despite Bulma protesting they had plenty of time. But they were overjoyed and supportive, and she appreciated it. <em>At least someone is.</em></p><p>She knew she had to tell him.</p><p>Bulma let a week go by. And then another. <em>There’s no rush, right?</em>  She adjusted to the anti-nausea medication. Now that she was able to stomach a bit of food, she had more energy. And she was allowed one cup of coffee a day. She did enjoy that cup of coffee.</p><p>And it seemed to be appropriate to have a cup of coffee to calm herself before The Most Awkward Conversation of Her Life.</p><p>The communication room at Capsule Corp. was the only one with the necessary technology to contact Vegeta in deep space. The walk there felt unbearably long. Her footsteps were the only noise in the empty hallway. Unconsciously, it made Bulma realize how alone she felt. She tapped her fingers on her coffee mug. <em>Don't be nervous. </em>But how could she not be? She felt sick, and was sure it wasn’t the baby causing it.</p><p>The communication room was empty, as it usually was. She took a seat in the leather chair and stared at the black screen in front of her. She took a deep breath. She steadied herself. <em>You’ve been through a lot worse than this. Come on, Bulma. You can do this.</em> In one hand, she held her coffee mug. The warm drink was comforting to her. <em>And I sure need comfort right now. A lot of it.</em> With her other hand (<em>ignore the tremble in your fingers, it's the caffeine</em>) she pressed the CALL button.</p><p>She had a whole script prepared in her head. She had mentally prepared it for hours. <em>“Vegeta, I just wanted to let you know I’m pregnant. I know how this must be a surprise to you too, and it’s up to you how involved you want to be with this child. That's all I wanted to say.”</em></p><p>It took a minute of calling, <em>(maybe he'll dodge your call and he won't even</em> <em>answer</em>), but his face finally appeared in the screen. Vegeta looked like he’d been to Hell. Again. He leaned on the console as if he needed the support. His armor was half-destroyed. His face was bruised and bloody.</p><p>“What do you want, Woman?” he growled at her.</p><p>As soon as she saw his face, battered and annoyed, the script she had worked on in her head for hours vanished. “I’m pregnant,” she blurted out.</p><p>He recoiled as if she’d struck him. Utter disbelief was plastered on his face. “You... you told me you were on medication to prevent this.”</p><p>Bulma nodded. “I was on a pill. It’s not 100% effective though. Obviously.”</p><p>She jumped in her seat as he slammed his fist on the ship’s console. Anger had replaced his confusion. “Why did it fail?"</p><p>She sighed and rubbed her forehead with her spare hand. “I don’t know. Maybe Saiyans have super sperm. I’m not exactly an expert on Saiyan sex.”</p><p>He pointed a finger at her, accusingly. “Was this your plan all along?”</p><p>The only time she had seen him this angry was on Namek. And it had terrified and intimidated her then. <em>That's not me anymore</em>. <em>Sip your coffee. Look casual. Don't let him get under your skin. </em>“Yes, you caught me,” Bulma replied sarcastically. “I seduced you for the purpose of carrying your child. My life isn’t complicated enough, right?”</p><p>The anger in his face seemed to melt. It was replaced with... nothing. His expression was completely unreadable and emotionless. “You said you wouldn’t bother me with unimportant things. This is a distraction to my training.”</p><p>“Excuse me?” Bulma snapped. He meant to hurt her and to push her away. To him, this wasn’t his problem to deal with - it was Bulma’s. His priority was ascending to Super Saiyan. It wasn’t Bulma, and it never had been. Bulma was an afterthought. And if he felt that way about her, he’d think even less of their child. She knew he would react this way - Bulma had no romantic illusions about him suddenly falling in love with her and devoting himself to her and their child. But it still hurt like hell to see and to hear. “If this is a distraction to you, how do you think I feel? I’m the one carrying this baby!”</p><p>“Don’t bother me again.” His voice and face were completely cold. Vegeta terminated the connection between them.</p><p>
  <em>Oh, no he didn’t.</em>
</p><p>Bulma slammed her coffee mug down on the console. Some of the liquid sloshed from the cup and spilled. How dare he shove her aside like this? She angrily pushed the CALL button, momentarily amused that the button was red and it matched the anger that she felt. <em>You don't get to have the last word. Not this time.</em></p><p>“What is it now?” Vegeta snarled. He had disabled the video so she could only hear his voice. And that was fine with her, because it was what she had to say that was important.</p><p>She was careful to keep her voice level and calm.<em> It's like dealing with a spoiled brat of a child. Yelling doesn’t help. Rein in your temper. You’re in charge.</em> “I just want you to know something. The baby and I will be fine without you. I’m strong enough to do this alone. And I shouldn’t have expected anything more from you than this. Because Vegeta... you are the most self-centered asshole I’ve ever met.”</p><p>And there was that flash of rage in his voice that she knew all too well. “How dare you speak to the Prince of All Saiyans...”</p><p>Bulma didn’t want to hear his bullshit. She pressed the CALL button and disconnected herself.</p><p>She leaned back in her chair and propped her feet up on the console. Sipping her coffee slowly, relishing the sweet cream flavor, Bulma felt strangely satisfied. Being a mother had never crossed her mind. But Bulma Briefs had never shirked a responsibility, and she wasn’t going to start now. She was lucky. She had money, she had supportive parents, and she had a network of people who would help her through this. Bulma was the heiress to the richest, most powerful company in the world. She was brilliant and talented and she... she was going to be okay.</p><p>She looked at her stomach. <em>Wow. There's a tiny little baby in there. </em>For the first time since she knew she was pregnant, she wasn't terrified. Instead, she felt confident. Bulma refused to fail at anything. She certainly wasn't going to fail her child. “Yeah, little buddy. We’re gonna be just fine.” Bulma finished drinking her cup of coffee. She dabbed the coffee she had spilled with a paper towel. She hesitated for a moment before she left the communication room, glancing back at the video screen, wondering if Vegeta’s arrogant, spiky-haired head would appear on her screen, apologizing to her. And she knew full well it would be completely out of character for him.</p><p>Vegeta stayed in space for months. In the back of her mind, Bulma wondered if he would contact her to ask how she and the baby were doing.</p><p>He never did.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Mocha and Bitterness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's the night before the Androids appear, and Vegeta isn't helping to calm Bulma's nerves.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all for the wonderfully kind comments and kudos!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh, it’s so late, Bulma! The caffeine will keep you awake!” Panchy had flowers strewn on the kitchen table, busily arranging them in stunning bouquets. Her mother’s garden was important to her, and Panchy had spent countless hours planting, pruning, and growing her flowers. And her hard work paid off in the lovely bouquets she placed throughout Capsule Corp.</p><p>Sadly, Bulma had inherited her father's black thumb. Flowers wilted when she merely walked by.</p><p>“It’s okay, Mom. I have a lot to do before I go to sleep.” Bulma peeked in the refrigerator. <em>Ooo, mocha</em>. “Gotta stay awake somehow.” She started brewing a cup of coffee and leaned against the kitchen counter. “Are you nervous about tomorrow, Mom?”</p><p>“Oh, no honey. All of your friends have been training and working so hard. Is Vegeta going to be there?”</p><p>Her heart skipped a beat. “Oh, I’m positive he wouldn't miss this.” She poured a cup of coffee and stirred in the creamer. “This is all he’s been concerned with for the past three years.” <em>And I’m not bitter about it. Not at all.</em> “Anyway, I’m going to head to my room. I have some stuff I need to take care of.”</p><p>“Have a good night dear! Take care of that sweet little angel for me!” Panchy resumed working with her flowers, humming to herself.</p><p>Bulma smiled, placing the creamer back in the fridge and giving her mother a hug. It was hard not to be cheered by her mother’s relentless optimism, even when she was not feeling particularly confident herself. “Will do, Mom. Love you.”</p><p>Tomorrow was what Bulma had started referring to as A-Day (which sounded a lot better to Bulma than "The Day the Androids Might Kill All of Humanity Day"). May 12, Age 767, Amenbo Island, 10:00 in the morning. The date, location, and time they were warned that the Androids would suddenly appear.</p><p>As she walked through the maze of halls to her room, she held on to her coffee with one hand and pulled her phone out of her pocket with the other. Bulma turned her phone on and checked the nursery camera.</p><p>She couldn’t help but smile at the black-and-white image of Trunks, curled up sweetly in his crib, his thumb in his mouth.</p><p>Bulma still couldn’t believe sometimes that she was a mother. The first six months had been the hardest. Her parents were incredible and helped tremendously, but Bulma wasn’t prepared for how overwhelmed and exhausted she would feel being responsible for a tiny, helpless human being. Now that Trunks was almost a year old, sleeping through the night more often than not and showing more of his adorable, feisty personality, she felt more secure in her abilities as a parent.</p><p><em>Night little buddy.</em> Bulma turned her phone off and slipped it back into her pocket. <em>Now it’s time to get to work.</em></p><p>Bulma sat at her computer and placed her coffee mug on her desk. <em>Alright, Gero. Let’s see what you’re up to.</em> Bulma had spent much of her time lately looking for any scraps of information she could find about Gero or the Androids. Gero had seemingly dropped off the face of the earth four years ago. The formerly prolific scientist had not published a paper or given a presentation. He hadn’t even made an appearance in public from what Bulma could tell. For a man so involved in the scientific community and weaponry development to disappear suddenly was strange, but she wouldn't have even noticed if Gero wasn't on her radar. Whatever he was up to, he was quiet about it.</p><p>She wasn't physically strong like her friends. Her talents lay in science and research. And if she couldn't find any information to help, how was she supposed to contribute?</p><p>No new or relevant information about Gero, Amenbo Island... Bulma wasn’t able to find anything to prepare for this. And Bulma was getting very annoyed about it. If their mysterious visitor from the future hadn’t warned them, they’d have no idea what was coming. No wonder their future selves were caught so unprepared.</p><p>The years had felt deceptively peaceful.</p><p>Tap. Tap.</p><p>
  <em>Well, it had felt peaceful.</em>
</p><p>She gestured for him to come in. There was only one person who came to her balcony door once every few weeks and tapped on the sliding glass door to be let in. She heard it slide open and close and felt his fierce presence enter her bedroom. <em>Don’t engage with him. Don’t look at him. Don’t talk more than you need to.</em> Bulma sipped her drink, refusing to even turn around acknowledge him. She was tired of squabbling and yelling, and that's all they ever seemed to do.</p><p>Vegeta had certainly been haughty before he’d obtained Super Saiyan, and now that he had, his arrogance was stifling. Bulma had truly been happy for him when he had returned from space and showed her his transformation. He had worked hard and he deserved it. She used to be attracted to his work ethic and drive to become a Super Saiyan. And now that he had accomplished his goal, he was absolutely insufferable. He was even more irritating than he had been before he left for space.</p><p>Bulma wouldn’t deny him the opportunity to see his child (or, more accurately, to visit occasionally late at night while the baby was asleep to stare at him), but that didn’t mean she had forgiven his attitude or his neglect.</p><p>“I’m surprised you’re awake at this hour," he mumbled at her.</p><p>She glanced at the clock, realizing that hours had passed since she'd started scouring the Internet for information. Her long-forgotten coffee was cold. She drank it anyway. “You don’t think I’m a little nervous about tomorrow?”</p><p>Vegeta took Bulma’s innocent remark as a personal insult, because of course he did. “Do you doubt the power of an elite Saiyan warrior?”</p><p>In the reflection of her computer monitor, Bulma saw his arms cross. His defensive reflex. “My anxiety about killer Androids isn’t a reflection of your abilities.”</p><p>“Hmph. Is the child asleep?”</p><p>“Yep. Don’t wake him up.”</p><p>Vegeta had woken up him once when he was leaving the nursery and accidentally stepped on a toy that had suddenly sprung to life and began singing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” He had practically run from the room in a panic, stammering he’d woken up Trunks and he was crying. Bulma almost doubled over laughing from the sight of the Prince of All Saiyans fleeing from a screaming infant. Vegeta was not as amused.</p><p>As Vegeta had left her room, Bulma let out the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. <em>Kami, he makes me so tense.</em></p><p>Bulma pulled out her phone and glanced at the nursery camera while she sipped her coffee. Vegeta was doing the same thing he always did - staring at Trunks as if he was a tiny puzzle he needed to figure out how to put together. <em>Weirdo.</em> He didn’t know what to do with the poor kid. Vegeta didn’t know how to hold a baby, and seemed terrified to learn (“He is too delicate and weak.”). Trying to play with Trunks was a disaster (“Woman, he does nothing with this ball but stare at it!”). He tried to feed him - once ("Why does he eat so slowly? He is not a true Saiyan!").</p><p>It would be amusing if it didn’t hurt her so much. He was hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.</p><p>Bulma watched Vegeta walk away from the crib and she hurriedly turned off her phone and left it on her computer desk. He was fast, even when he walked. She grabbed her coffee mug and was drinking it by the time he came back to her room, her phone carefully pushed away from her.</p><p>“It seems that Trunks is doing well.”</p><p>Bulma nodded. “He is.” <em>No thanks to you. Jerk.</em></p><p>Without even a goodbye, Vegeta turned to fly off the balcony and leave instead of using a door like a normal person.</p><p>“See you tomorrow, Vegeta.”</p><p>She heard his footsteps halt in their tracks. “Why would I see you tomorrow?”</p><p>“Well, I’m bringing Trunks to see everyone. They don’t even know he was born. And I want to see the Androids for myself.”</p><p>“Are you an idiot?” he hissed at her.</p><p>“Nope. I’m a scientist. And if someone has truly accomplished the kind of technology that kid from the future told us about, I want to see it for myself.”</p><p>“You will get yourself killed. And you will get Trunks killed.”</p><p>“I can take care of myself. And my son.”</p><p>“If you go on that battlefield, you are responsible for yourself and the child. My priority is the Androids.”</p><p>“Oh, you’ve made it clear what your priority is,” she snapped icily.</p><p>“If you have something to say to me, then say it.”</p><p>She swiveled her chair around and glared the nastiest glare that she had ever glared. She was exhausted from motherhood and worry. Holding her mug in a tight, anxious grip, she snapped: “What the fuck do you want me to say? What else can I say to you?”</p><p>“I don’t want you to take my...”</p><p>“Why even bother calling him your son?”</p><p>Vegeta’s eyes flashed dangerously with anger. His hair glinted slightly in the low light. Bulma knew the trigger for Super Saiyans was rage. Rational Bulma told herself it was dangerous to push a man who, until very recently, was a genocidal murderer. Emotional Bulma decided she was furious enough that it was worth the risk.</p><p>“He doesn’t know you. When he sees you, he cries. You’ve never stayed up all night with him while he’s teething and crying. You don't know how to make him laugh. You’ve never even changed a diaper. Until you start giving him a damn about him, your opinion doesn’t matter. And you don’t get to use my child to manipulate me into doing what you want me to do.”</p><p>It was very rare that Vegeta had nothing to say. There wasn’t a snappy retort. He didn’t explode into Super Saiyan anger. He just silently stared at her, knowing she was right.</p><p>“Do what you will,” he responded at last. “But your safety and the safety of the brat will not be a concern to me tomorrow.”</p><p>“Vegeta, you’ve never been concerned with us,” she replied softly.</p><p>Instead of the familiar white-hot fury, his rage at her was ice cold. Bulma didn’t know which was worse.</p><p>For a moment, Bulma considered calling out to him as he stalked away angrily, but her own pride wouldn’t allow it. He flitted in and out of her room and her life according to his own whims. As soon as she managed to push him out of her mind and her heart, he was there again, tapping on her glass, asking to be let in.</p><p>She was fucking tired of it.</p><p>Bulma watched him fly off into the night. She didn’t know where he spent his days or where he slept. They had become so disconnected from each other that she knew nothing about his life.</p><p><em>How did we come to this?</em> It was pride and stubbornness and hurt, and she knew it.</p><p>Bulma finished her practically-iced coffee and stood up, stretching her arms and legs. She had been sitting longer than she realized, lost in Internetland. Before she tried to squeeze a few hours of sleep out of the day, she had to do Super Fun Mom Things, like pack Trunks’ diaper bag for A-Day.</p><p>
  <em>Take a deep breath, Bulma. If your blood pressure gets this high every time you see Vegeta, your heart is going to explode.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Caramel Peace Offering</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Thanks to a Frappucino, Vegeta and Bulma work towards a reconciliation.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one is a bit more dialogue-heavy, but I thought it was necessary so these two stubborn people can start working out their differences and sorting out their feelings about each other! Hope you all enjoy, and again, thank you for the kudos and the comments.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bulma stretched on the patio furniture lazily, watching the smoke from her cigarette curl in the air. It was such a bad habit and she knew she needed to quit... but not the night before the Cell Games. She shifted a bit on the lounger and winced. She was still so sore, particularly her ribs, but she was sure that was par for the course for surviving a plane crash. A plane crash that her son rescued her and her baby from. Her future son.</p><p><em>So freaking weird</em>.</p><p>But, miraculously, her baby was unhurt, and Bulma was only bruised. But the terror Bulma felt would last long after her ribs healed. She felt absolutely helpless to save her child. It wasn't a feeling she ever wanted to experience again. For a moment, she considered how her future self must feel. Always on the run from murderous Androids, the world and all of her friends destroyed, desperate to keep her baby alive at any cost. She shivered. It wasn't something she liked to think about much.</p><p>"Woman, I want to come up there, and I'm not going to until you put that damned thing out."</p><p>Bulma shrieked and almost rolled off the lounger. "What the hell, Vegeta?! Where are you?"</p><p>She could hear his exasperated sigh. "As I said, I am below the balcony, and I'm not coming up until that cigarette is out."</p><p>"Fine." She reached over and extinguished the cigarette in a nearby ash tray. She knew the smell bothered his keen senses. "There you go. Happy?"</p><p>Finally, he flew over the balcony railing and landed in the shadows hear her. "Ecstatic. You know how bad those are for your health," he grumbled at her.</p><p>"Did you come here to give me a lecture?" She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. It was difficult to notice in the dim light, but he was holding something. "What's that in your hands?" she asked curiously. "What are you doing here? Trunks is asleep if you want to see him. Either one of them."</p><p>"I came to see you."</p><p>"Vegeta, I'm exhausted and I'm stressed. I don't want to fight with you right now."</p><p>Vegeta stepped forward into the light and Bulma saw he was clutching a... Frappucino. His expression was uncharacteristically nervous. The prince's gloved fingers nervously tapped the plastic cup, and she could see he held a straw in his other hand.</p><p>"What the...? What is this? What's going on?"</p><p>"It is a caramel drink with a pump of mocha syrup from that overpriced cafe you frequent. It's for you." He shuffled his feet and looked away from her, obviously uncomfortable.</p><p>Bulma blinked. "I'm sorry. I'm so confused right now, Vegeta."</p><p>"Will you just take the damned thing?" he snapped. <em>Ah, now that's the Vegeta I know. </em>Vegeta thrust the drink out to her with a scowl.</p><p>"That's my favorite drink from there. How did you remember?"</p><p>"I went with you twice. And I have an impeccable memory."</p><p>"And modesty."</p><p>"Woman, so help me, I will take this and drink it in front of you."</p><p>"Don't you dare. Gimme!" Bulma snatched the cup and straw from his hands and settled back on the lounger, making herself as comfortable as she could. She tried not to cringe at the soreness she felt, but Vegeta noticed. She knew his sharp eyes noticed everything. "Wait. How did you buy this? You don't have any money."</p><p>"I told the woman who made it that I am going to defend her planet from Cell and defeat him, and it would be appropriate for her to give me this coffee as a gift."</p><p><em>Sigh.</em> "Oh. Of course you did." She gestured for him to sit next to her on the couch, and he cautiously took a seat as far away from her as possible. He sat rigidly and appeared more uncomfortable than Bulma had ever seen anyone sit on a couch. "Is this poisoned?"</p><p>Vegeta looked aghast at the suggestion. "I have never used poison to kill. That's a coward's weapon. A Saiyan warrior would never resort to poisoning an opponent."</p><p>"Wow. Um. Thanks for sharing that tidbit about yourself."</p><p>He nodded, the sarcasm absolutely lost on him.</p><p>Bulma took a drink of her Frappucino. It was made just the way she liked it. She gave a satisfied <em>ahhh</em> when she finished her sip. "Just right. But... why did you get this for me?"</p><p>"Are you aware I've been training in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber?"</p><p>Bulma nodded. "Trunks let me know. He spent time in there too."</p><p>Vegeta folded his arms awkwardly, and seemingly wanted to crawl under the lounger and hide from her. "I have spent significant time there preparing for the Cell Games. Years passed for me. And it gave me time to think. And... I thought about you. I should have helped you and Trunks when the plane exploded."</p><p>"You're right, asshole." He bristled at the words but didn't deny them. "So this is an apology?"</p><p>"Call it a peace offering."</p><p>"So... a Saiyan apology."</p><p>He rolled his eyes. "If that helps you."</p><p>Bulma nervously traced her finger along the edge of the plastic cup. "I appreciate this. I do. I know our time apart felt like years for you, but it's only been a few days for me. And I need to process this, especially after all that's happened. But I want you to know I appreciate it." He looked absolutely mortified by all of the <em>emotions</em>. Bulma scooted a little closer and took one of his hands in hers. He tensed but didn't move away from her. "And I want you to be safe tomorrow."</p><p>"Tch. I don't need you to worry about me," he snapped.</p><p><em>Don't wound that pride, Bulma. It's so fragile. </em>"Okay, Badman. Keep Trunks safe for me then."</p><p>"He needs no help from me to keep himself safe. He is a capable warrior."</p><p>"Maybe you should tell him that," Bulma replied quietly. "It would mean a lot to him."</p><p>"He should stand on his own two feet and understand that himself without needing the approval of a father he doesn't know."</p><p>"Vegeta, he never knew you in his own time. All he's heard is stories from me. Well, future me. He wants to make you proud. You can't hold that against him."</p><p>For a long time, Vegeta stared up at the sky. With all of the light pollution from West City, it was difficult to see the stars. Maybe he could manage it with his freaky Saiyan eyesight. "Perhaps."</p><p>"Come on. You know I'm right. I'm a genius, after all."</p><p>Vegeta snorted. "You've mentioned that once or twice."</p><p>Bulma took another sip and then glanced at Vegeta. The silence was comfortable between them and they were more at ease with each other than they'd been for over a year. After the plane crash, Bulma was absolutely certain that the next time she would see Vegeta, she would scream at him. Tell him what a selfish jerk he had been. <em>Maybe I'm just tired of us screaming at each other. </em>She sighed. "Hey. You were right about something too."</p><p>He cocked an eyebrow at her. "And what's that?"</p><p>"I shouldn't have gone to see the Androids. And I especially shouldn't have taken Trunks. I'm sorry for that."</p><p>"You should have known I was right. I'm a prince, after all."</p><p>"You've mentioned that once or twice."</p><p>Vegeta genuinely smiled at her response (to be fair, it was more of a smirk, but that was the closest Vegeta came to a smile). Bulma looked at their hands clasped together and then back into his eyes.</p><p>
  <em>Uh oh.</em>
</p><p>Condensation from Bulma's Frappucino fell on her hand. The sudden wetness jolted her from what she was about to. Because what she was about to do would have been very, very foolish. She cleared her throat and looked away awkwardly.</p><p>Vegeta suddenly dropped her hand hand and sprang to his feet. He turned away, his face lost in the shadows. Bulma wasn't sure if it was from embarrassment or disappointment. "I need to go rest. Tomorrow will be long and difficult."</p><p>"Wait. Where are you going?"</p><p>"Does it matter?"</p><p>"You could sleep here, if you want to. Your room hasn't been touched since you left."</p><p>She couldn't see his expression but she could certainly read the hesitation in his body language. "It would be an imposition to you and your family."</p><p>Bulma shook her head. "You can have a good meal, a hot shower, and be well rested for tomorrow. You'll be much more prepared to fight, and I'll be less likely to die. See? Everyone wins."</p><p>After a long moment of consideration, Vegeta finally replied: "Fine."</p><p>"Go on in. You know where everything is. I'll be in shortly if you need anything. I just need some time alone."</p><p>Vegeta nodded. Out of everyone she knew, Vegeta could certainly appreciate the need for privacy. Bulma heard the patio sliding glass door open and close behind her.</p><p>Bulma was an absolute jumble of emotions.</p><p><em>Bulma, what are you doing? This guy let you almost die a few days ago. Now you're about to kiss him? </em>She sipped her Frappucino to the bottom, hearing the <em>slurp </em>as she struck whipped cream gold. <em>It's all because he brought me this damn thing. He knows my</em> <em>weaknesses.</em></p><p>She knew what it really was.</p><p>Vegeta had asked her once if she thought people could change. And she had answered him honestly that she truly believed they could. Tien, Yamcha, and Piccolo had once been their enemies. They had certainly changed. If they could, why couldn't Vegeta? He'd apologized to her. In his own, very weird, Vegeta way. Maybe all that time apart while he trained in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber had made him miss her and the baby. <em>Maybe. But don't get your hopes too far up in the clouds.<br/></em></p><p>Bulma stayed on the lounger for a long time, enjoying the brief moment of peace, hoping to Kami that humanity wasn't eradicated tomorrow.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Post-Battle Peppermint Mocha</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Vegeta returns to Bulma after the battle with Cell. A bit of fluff and a lot of feelings.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks again for the loveliness, guys.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bulma lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She was too tired and melancholy to do anything else but rest. The only noise in her room was the ceiling fan she has promised herself she would fix, wobbling back and forth.</p><p>Today had been hell.</p><p>It could be worse. She could be dead. Gohan had saved them all, and when Cell disintegrated on the battlefield, she was ecstatic. But then she remembered that Goku had died, and it was a guilty punch to her stomach. How happy could she allow herself to be? <em>He was my oldest friend. Now he’s gone. And he wants to stay gone. </em></p><p>And her son had been murdered. Shot through the heart and killed almost instantly. Trunks had been resurrected with the Dragon Balls, yes, but Kami, he had still died. She knew death was always a risk in battle, but she still felt she had failed her "other" self.</p><p>Watching the Cell Games on television reminded her of when the Saiyans had invaded. She had been at the Kame House, helpless, watching her friends be murdered live on television. Bulma had the same feelings then that she did now - the good guys had won. Earth and humanity had been saved. But at what cost? Cell had been killed, the Saiyans who murdered her friends had been defeated. But life would never be the same for her or any of her friends. It was a selfish thought, but she couldn’t help it.</p><p>And now, one of those Saiyanas who murdered her friends was the father of her child. And she had no idea where he was. She was worried sick.</p><p>Funny how things change.</p><p>Trunks had said the others told him Vegeta had left soon after the battle. He also told her, disbelievingly, that when he had been killed by Cell, Vegeta went berserk and attempted to avenge his death. And Cell had injured him terribly.</p><p><em>Vegeta... where are you? You’re out there somewhere, hurt. Please come home.</em> Bulma considered for a moment if Vegeta even considered Capsule Corp. his home.</p><p>Trunks was leaving tomorrow to return to his own time. They were also going to have a small memorial service for Goku. <em>Poor Gohan and Chi-Chi. They must be devastated.</em> But the Son family was tough. They would get through this. And if they could, Bulma could.</p><p>Sighing, she took her phone from her jacket pocket and turned on the nursery camera app. Trunks was asleep, snuggling with a stuffed animal, blissfully unaware of all the tragedy and pain of the day. And unlike the other Trunks that was resting in her home, this Trunks would know his family and Bulma’s friends. <em>He is so loved. Lucky little kid.</em></p><p>Tap. Tap.</p><p>Bulma almost threw her phone in her rush to get to her balcony door.</p><p>He looked exhausted. One hand tapped against her glass door, while the other rested at his side at an awkward angle, seemingly immobile. She almost hugged him when she pushed the door open but caught herself in time. <em>Tackling Vegeta with a hug doesn't seem wise.</em> “Kami, Vegeta. I was so worried about you. Where have you been? We had no idea where you were.”</p><p>“I needed to be alone.” He half-staggered through her door and shut it behind him. Now that she was close to him, Bulma could see how terrible he looked. He was covered in dirt and his own blood. Bulma noticed his left arm hung painfully at his side.</p><p>Bulma was most concerned about the expression in his eyes. He looked physically and emotionally broken. His normally fierce black eyes were dull and tinged red, as if he had recently cried and was struggling not to let any tears slip in front of her. <em>He’d cried on Namek when he felt hopeless in</em><em> his fight against Frieza. Goku told me that.</em> Bulma had sent Vegeta enraged, frustrated, and scornful. She had never seen him hopeless. A lump formed in her throat that she tried to swallow away.</p><p>“What do you need for me to do?”</p><p>“Need some coffee,” he growled.</p><p><em>Really? No medical attention? </em>was on the tip of her tongue. But he was a Saiyan. He knew his physical limits. “Okay, I can do that. Hold on.” Bulma could certainly appreciate having a cup of coffee after a miserable day.</p><p>After Trunks was born and she had needed to spend more time working in her office near his nursery, she’d had a coffeemaker and a small refrigerator installed so she didn’t have to walk to the kitchen every time she needed a caffeine fix. Bulma entered the code for her office on the panel next to the door and the door slid open. She internally cringed at the mess in the room. Schematics plans scattered, tools thrown about... <em>Hey, I never claimed to be a tidy person. Just a brilliant one.</em></p><p>She flipped the coffeemaker on and began to brew a cup. Bulma only kept one mug in her office, but she was fine not having any caffeine right now. She wanted to collapse in a deep sleep for hours and escape the day. <em>Besides, Vegeta’s the one who almost died today. He’s earned this.</em> Bulma opened the door to the tiny fridge and grinned triumphantly. <em>I knew there was Peppermint Mocha in here!</em> She stirred the creamer in the mug then put the almost-empty bottle back in the fridge.</p><p>Before she left her office, she took a deep breath to steady herself. She didn’t think she’d see Vegeta tonight. Truthfully, she thought there was a possibility she’d never see him again. <em>What’s on his mind? What’s he thinking about? Will he even talk to me?</em> His fiercest rival, his motivation to be stronger, was dead. Vegeta’s life had been saved by a child, an egregious blow to his pride. His son has been murdered in front of him. And then he’d been almost killed. <em>Shit. That’s a lot for one day.</em> Bulma left her office, the door sliding quietly behind her.</p><p>Vegeta was standing at her glass balcony doors, staring blankly out into the night. Bulma handed him the mug and he took it from her, nodding at her appreciatively. A ghost of a Vegeta smile-smirk glanced across his lips as his hands cupped the warm mug. “I believe I smell Peppermint Mocha.”</p><p>Bulma grinned at him. “You sure do! Not quite Pumpkin Spice. Stupid seasonal flavors."</p><p>Vegeta took a deep gulp of coffee, almost finishing the mug in a matter of seconds. “I needed that.”</p><p>“I can tell. I figure you deserved it after the shit day you had.”</p><p>“It really was shit.” He quietly finished his cup. When the mug was empty, Vegeta stared at the stray coffee grounds at the bottom, floating in a little puddle of creamer. “I have something I need to say.”</p><p>Bulma nodded. <em>What is he going to say? Reject us? Say he can’t handle the idea of fatherhood? Leave the planet and me behind?</em></p><p>“I have made many mistakes today. My son was murdered and I could do nothing but stand and watch him be shot through the heart. Gohan almost died for me because I was a fool. And I don’t want this conversation to be a mistake. I have... not treated you well. You or the child.”</p><p>“What are you saying?” <em>Your heart is going to pound out of your chest, Bulma.</em></p><p>“Bulma, I’m sorry.”</p><p>Her heart jolted. Vegeta had never apologized to her. He had said things like: <em>“I should not have behaved that way.” “That was unbecoming of me.”</em> But an actual apology?</p><p>“Thanks for saying that.” She smiled at him.</p><p>Her friendly gesture made him turn away quickly. “But I don’t deserve you.”</p><p>“Huh? Why would you say that?"</p><p>“Why? Because it's the damned truth.” His boots shuffled awkwardly back and forth on the floor.</p><p>“Can I take this for a moment? I have something to say to you, too.” He handed his mug to her and she reached and put it on her bedside table. “Vegeta, I want you to stay with me and Trunks.”</p><p>He stared at her, perplexed. “Why would you want that? I have been terrible to both of you. Everything you said to me when we argued was true. He doesn’t know me.”</p><p>“Vegeta, he’s only 1. You can make up for lost time.”</p><p>He snorted. “I don’t know anything about being a father. You have raised him well on your own for a year. You would be fine without me.”</p><p>Bulma shrugged. “So? I can also give myself my own orgasms, but they’re so much more fun with you.”</p><p>Even though he wasnt looking directly at her, Bulma could see Vegeta’s face turn crimson. “Woman! You... you are so vulgar!”</p><p>Bulma cackled. “I know,” she teased. “But, seriously. I know I can do this on my own. But I want to do it with you.”</p><p>He looked so ashamed of himself. And Bulma knew, in many ways, he should be. But it was strange to see remorse on a man so normally prideful. “It is as I said. I don’t deserve to be with you or the child.”</p><p>Ignoring the dirt and the blood, Bulma held his cheeks in her hands, turning his face gently so his black eyes met hers. “Don’t tell me what I deserve. I can make my own decisions about that. It’s about what I want. What I want is for you to stay. I’m not going to force you into this, but I’m also not going to let you use me as an excuse to leave. If you’re ready to try, so am I.”</p><p>“You told me once you believe people can change for the better. Do you still feel that way about me?”</p><p>Without any hesitation, Bulma replied: “Absolutely.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“You already have. When our son died, you cared. In spite of you trying to convince yourself you didn’t.” She pressed her hand against his filthy breastplate, daring to be as physically close to him as she felt emotionally. He didn’t move away. “Don’t get me wrong. We have a lot of shit to work out. But if you didn’t care about us, you wouldn’t have come here. This is your home, Vegeta. When you felt broken and lost, you came here. You came to your family.”</p><p>To Bulma’s complete and utter shock, he wrapped his arms around her tightly. He clung to her like she was a rock and he was lost at sea. Bulma returned his embrace firmly. For the first time in such a long time, she felt secure with him. She felt his hot breath tangle in her hair when he spoke softly to her and said: “I want to stay.”</p><p>“And one more thing.” Bulma tilted her head and kissed him. At first, he was surprised. Then he kissed her back. As his lips moved on hers, Bulma tasted Peppermint Mocha on his tongue. When they finally pulled apart, Bulma rested her head on his shoulder. <em>Sometimes, it’s nice having a lover your own height.</em> “That was nice.”</p><p>He grunted in reply. <em>Ah. Saiyan romance.</em></p><p>Bulma booped his nose and he crinkled it in annoyance. “Now, for Kami’s sake, get a shower. You’re so gross right now.”</p><p>“Where should I sleep tonight?”</p><p>As a very forward person herself, Bulma appreciated him asking what was acceptable to her. She bit her lip. “With me, as long as you’re comfortable with it. And just to be clear, I’m not ready for THAT” - he cleared his throat awkwardly at the implication, even though he had fucked her so many times - “... but it would be nice to be close to you. We’ve both had a pretty awful day.”</p><p>“Very well.”</p><p>“Now, do you need some help getting out of your armor?” She began fiddling with his breastplate. “Here...”</p><p>“Woman, I’m wounded, not helpless. I can certainly undress myself.” He gently slapped her hand away. <em>It’s good to see that Vegeta stubbornness come through. More like his old self.</em></p><p>Bulma changed into her pajamas and slipped under her sheets. It felt nice to put on clean clothes and try to rest. It felt like she was shedding away the fear and sadness of the day. She could hear the shower in her bathroom turn on. Bulma struggled to stay awake to wait for Vegeta to join her, but she knew she was fighting a losing battle.</p><p>Bulma dozed off into a light sleep. The next thing she was aware of was Vegeta slipping into her bed, putting his strong arms around her. His body and hair were still damp, and the smell of the soap he’d used was pleasant. <em>Much better than post-battle stink.</em> The moment he wrapped himself protectively around her, Bulma realized she smiled as if it were a reflex. He gently kissed her head and relaxed against her. Vegeta fell asleep soon, his breathing becoming regular and deep, and considering the day he’d had, she wasn’t surprised.</p><p>She had resented him since that awful day she had told him she was pregnant. There was so much anger and hurt between them. But the way he had come to her tonight, completely vulnerable, was unexpected. Bulma had built walls around herself so that he could no longer hurt her. She wanted his words and neglect to miss her heart so she could shrug them off as if he meant nothing to her. But seeing him tonight and accepting him, flaws and all, meant she wanted those walls to come down. She had missed their relationship. Their mutual respect for each other, the way they would watch trashy television shows together and Vegeta would pretend not to be interested. How they would take walks along the Capsule Corp. property and Vegeta would occasionally tell her about life on his planet. She'd missed the flirting, the playful teasing.</p><p>Bulma Briefs never backed down from a challenge. And she sure as hell know how challenging Vegeta was.</p><p>Her last thought as she slipped into sleep was: <em>I’ve missed this. I’ve missed him so much.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Vanilla Bulma Bribe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bulma needs to ask Vegeta for a favor. But favors work better with yummy bribes.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A little bit of fluff after the very emotional last chapter. Thank you all again for reading and the wonderful compliments!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Before Bulma became a mother, she made many Parenting Declarations. I won’t let my son have screentime before he’s four years old. <em>Low-sugar diet, definitely. Cloth diapering – sounds easy! And, perhaps, most importantly: He’s not going to learn to fight until he’s much, MUCH older. And only if HE makes the decision to do it. No pressure allowed from his asshole father.</em> In retrospect, Bulma created her Parenting Declarations to feel like she had agency in her pregnancy. She couldn’t control Vegeta’s shitty attitude, but she could control what Trunks ate. She couldn’t control the reality of giving birth alone, but she could control her child’s screentime.</p><p>Bulma reasoned many parents make similar promises to themselves. You set high expectations, then you actually <em>have </em>the baby, and reality sets in.</p><p>She’d failed in each Parenting Declaration except for one: Trunks was still not allowed to fight.</p><p>He had tried. Oh, how he’d tried. He emulated Vegeta’s punches and kicks with his own tiny fists and feet. Each time Vegeta opened the door to the Gravity Room to train, Trunks made a desperate attempt to duck in and follow his father. When the door slid shut in his face, Trunks would collapse to the ground, wailing and heartbroken.</p><p>Bulma was about to break her one, remaining Parenting Declaration.</p><p>It wasn’t a decision she had made lightly. Bulma had thought about it for months. She could certainly see how other people could judge her for this. <em>You’re letting your toddler son learn how to fight with his alien father who used to be a bloodthirsty murderer? </em></p><p>But there was a method to her madness.</p><p>First, there was the obvious reason. Trunks <em>wanted </em>to train. He had always been a stubborn baby, determined to do things his way. <em>Hey, look at his parents</em>. <em>He comes by it honestly. </em>He didn’t want anyone to bring him a toy; he wanted to crawl and get it himself. When he was learning to walk, he would stumble and refuse help in getting back to his feet. In Bulma’s eyes, Trunks had already made the decision – he wanted to fight. He was fearless. Headstrong. He wanted to be like his dad, and Bulma knew he wouldn’t stop. And if Vegeta trained him, he would at least learn how to fight properly, and there’d be less chance of him being hurt.</p><p>And then, there was a not-so obvious reason. Vegeta was depressed.</p><p>When he was training to fight the Androids and defeat Goku in battle, he’d had drive. He had motivation. Now… he had nothing. Sure, he still trained. But Bulma could tell his heart wasn’t in it. He no longer came out of Gravity Room bloody and beaten. The intense training sessions that almost killed him multiple times had ended, and while Bulma certainly didn't want to endure that again, she wanted him to <em>feel </em>his training again. His training now was half-hearted. He was going through the motions.</p><p>Vegeta claimed he had no interest in fighting again. But Bulma seriously doubted that. He just needed to care again.</p><p>Her parents had noticed his lack of incentive to train. They were concerned as well. Bulma certainly didn’t begrudge the man for relaxing every once in a while, but his new habit of watching daytime television for hours a day was… odd. And, honestly, the Android threat was over, but for Kami’s sake, this was still Earth. Bulma was willing to bet that one day, something was going to come and attempt to destroy the world again. It almost seemed inevitable.</p><p>He wasn’t himself. But because Vegeta was so emotionally difficult, it’s not as if Bulma could come straight out and ask: <em>Hey, buddy? How’re you doing? Things been going okay since your rival killed himself, the Androids were defeated, your pride was stomped into pieces at the Cell Games, and you’ve been watching so many soap operas with my mom you’re starting to follow storylines? </em>So Bulma was going to have to do this her own way.</p><p>What was going to be his motivation to train hard now? What was going to be his motivation to care? <em>Well, I’m going to have to give him one.</em></p><p>She’d asked her parents to take Trunks to the park for a bit to give her and Vegeta some privacy, and they’d happily obliged. Because if they came home in the middle of this talk, he would bolt from the room. <em>Not scared of fighting aliens to the death. Very scared of feelings.</em></p><p>Bulma peeked from the kitchen into the living room area. Vegeta was lounging (yes, Vegeta had begun to <em>lounge </em>these days) on the sofa, one cheek resting in his hand while he channel surfed. He was bored out of his mind.</p><p>She turned her attention back to the counter. She was about to present a Bulma Bribe.</p><p>Bulma had devised an amazing vanilla treat that Vegeta enjoyed. Simple to make, but it sure looked fancy. Bulma even used paper straws and poured the drink in a lovely glass jar to make it even fancier. She usually made them when she was about to ask for a favor, or a chore, or anything else Vegeta would fuss about. Either he hadn’t caught on to her game, or he enjoyed the coffee so much he didn’t care. He always took the Bulma Bribe.</p><p>The coffee was already brewed and chilled. She had been preparing for this conversation. Mixing in milk, sugar, and vanilla, Bulma stirred well. It was like preparing a science experiment – the right amount of ingredients made her experiment perfect. (<em>Although that didn’t explain why she was such a bad cook. Weird.</em>) And because she was feeling <em>extra </em>fancy, she put whipped cream on top. Vegeta freaking loved whipped cream. And no, he’d never admit it.</p><p>Bulma took a moment to admire her coffee masterpiece. <em>Damn, Bulma. That could go in a magazine! Alright. You’ve got this.</em> She took the jars gently so as not to wobble the whipped cream and cause a disaster on the kitchen floor, and walked carefully into the living room.</p><p>“Hey! Look what I have for…”</p><p>“Hmph. Another bribe. What is it for this time?” He eyed the jar suspiciously out the corner of his eye.</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>Vegeta sighed as he mindlessly channel surfed. Game show. Click. Soap opera. Click. Infomercial selling a grill. That channel he stayed on. <em>Well, it does involve food. </em>“The last time you made one of these, you asked me to help your mother in the garden. And the time before that, I had to move furniture for hours. So yes, Woman, I consider it a bribe.”</p><p><em>Dammit. He knows. I can still salvage this! </em>“But it’s such a tasty bribe!” Bulma whined. She drank from her own jar, the straw slurping loudly. “So good. Vanilla. Yum yum.”</p><p>“I am immune to your pathetic attempt at manipulation. Tell me what you want.”</p><p>“Oh, fine,” Bulma pouted. She plopped next to Vegeta on the couch, careful to hold the jars steady so nothing spilled. If she dumped coffee on the couch, her mother’s wrath may be worse than Vegeta’s ever could be. “I do have a favor to ask. And it’s a big one. I want you to begin training Trunks.”</p><p>Vegeta regarded her curiously. “You said you would not allow that until he’s older. Why have you changed your mind?”</p><p>“Are you kidding? Have you seen him lately? He wants to fight like his daddy, and I don’t have the heart to keep denying him. It’s so damn cute to see, Vegeta.”</p><p>Vegeta bristled as he mumbled how he is certainly not cute.</p><p>“I didn’t say you were cute. I said Trunks was cute. Anyway, how old were you when you started to train?” Bulma took another sip from her jar, still awkwardly holding Vegeta’s. <em>This is going to start to melt soon if he doesn’t take the bait. Come on!</em></p><p>“I suppose the same age as Trunks, but I don’t remember. What are you expecting me to do with him, exactly?”</p><p>“I don’t know! He’s not even two! Just show him the basics.”</p><p>Vegeta considered for a moment, emptily staring at the grill commercial. It could be his for the extra low price of $69.99! Then he finally nodded, sighing a bit. “Fine. Hand me the bribe.”</p><p>“Yes!” Bulma squealed. Vegeta winced in pain. “Oops. Sorry. Weird Saiyan hearing.” She handed him his jar.</p><p>Drinking his bribe slowly, Vegeta savored his drink. “I’ve never taught anyone. I doubt I’ll be the best teacher.”</p><p>“Well, think about your favorite teacher. What made them special to you?”</p><p>Vegeta snorted as if it was the most ridiculous question in the world. “My father taught me rudimentary skills before he gave me over to Frieza. I taught myself everything else.”</p><p>“Oh. Well, I think you’re special!” Bulma gave him a wide, cheesy grin she knew would irritate him.</p><p>If Vegeta rolled his eyes any further, they would have been lodged in his skull. “Whatever. How do you make this drink?” He took the straw and idly stirred what remained of the whipped cream. <em>Such a sweet tooth. </em></p><p>“It’s not hard. Just coffee, milk, sugar, and vanilla extract. You have to make the coffee extra strong, though, or it gets watered down.”</p><p>“Ah. Now I know how to make them on my own.” He smirked at her, his eyes teasing her.</p><p>Bulma threw a pillow at him, which, of course, he easily caught in midair and tossed on the chair next to him. “But I make it with love, Vegeta. And that’s not an ingredient you can buy in the store!”</p><p>“Whatever.” His gaze returned to the television set and the infomercial. “The more I consider this idea, the more I approve. If his future counterpart is any indication, our son has great potential. And it will teach the boy more discipline.”</p><p>“How much discipline can he have before he’s two years old?”</p><p>“Do you think Saiyan children throw fits and scream as shrilly as our child?”</p><p>Bulma was 99.9% positive that Toddler Vegeta probably pitched some epic temper tantrums, because Adult Vegeta pitched some epic temper tantrums. But she didn’t push the issue. “Just please remember he’s just a little kid, okay?”</p><p>“I am well aware of the limitations of a child.”</p><p>“And he has to have a nap after you break for lunch.”</p><p>Vegeta nodded sharply. “He will be allowed one nap period before day.”</p><p>Bulma almost giggled at his very serious statement. “That’s more for you than for him. You know what he’s like when he doesn’t get his nap.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, enjoying his reaction. <em>One of the most powerful men in the world, and I can get him to blush.</em></p><p>“Woman. You know what I’ve said about your sneak attacks.” He grumbled, but didn’t move away from her. Bulma knew he wasn’t truly irritated, or he would have scooted away. “Are you finished with your bribe?”</p><p>“Ha. Yes.” Bulma handed her jar to Vegeta and he placed it on the table next to him. He was careful to use coasters. One time, he did not – and that’s when Panchy lectured him about ring stains. After he’d settled back, Bulma pulled up a blanket and snuggled up to him, laying her head softly on his shoulder. At first, he stiffened at the contact. He still wasn’t used to things like cuddling. Hugs. Any physical signs of affection. But he was getting there. Bulma felt him relax, and, surprisingly, shift his body so it was closer to hers. “This is nice.”</p><p>He grunted, which was the Vegeta-equivalent of: <em>I won’t flee the room like I would have a few years ago. You’re very welcome.</em></p><p>“You know what would make this even better?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Not watching a damn infomercial about a grill.”</p><p>“Point taken.”</p><p>Vegeta relinquished control of the remote to Bulma. As she clicked through the channels, she sighed contentedly.</p><p>Ever-so-slowly, Vegeta was growing more comfortable with life on Earth. With her and Trunks. And she was beginning to feel like they were a family.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Little Cups and Marriage Proposals</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Here's the wedding chapter! I've been looking forward to writing this one. Enjoy.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Wow. What a day. I’ve always heard you’re exhausted after your wedding but... whew.” Bulma’s feet like they were on fire. <em>Should have worn flat shoes like Mom suggested. </em>The house was blessedly quiet. Her parents had taken Trunks home from the reception early. Poor guy was falling asleep in his grandfather's arms. And Bulma couldn't blame him. She felt like she was going to fall asleep as soon as her head laid on her pillow.</p>
<p>“I agree.” Vegeta closed the kitchen door behind them. He probably didn’t feel physical exhaustion the way she did, but this had been a long day for him too. He had to be around <em>people </em>for an extended period of time.</p>
<p>Bulma stifled a yawn. “I’m going to go change and then go make sure Trunks is asleep. I love this dress and all, but after twelve hours in it, I’m ready to be in some pajamas.”<br/><br/>“No!”<br/><br/>Bulma blinked at his outburst. “Excuse me?”<br/><br/>“I just... don’t think you should change yet.”</p>
<p><em>He’s got something crafty up his sleeve.</em> “You just love seeing your beautiful bride dressed up, don’t you?” she teased. “You don’t look half-bad either.” Vegeta had actually agreed to wear a tuxedo for the entire day, which surprised the hell out of Bulma. “Can I at least go wash off my face, mister? This makeup is caked on.”<br/><br/>He nodded. “That’s fine.”</p>
<p>“Oh, thank you for your permission,” she replied sarcastically. Bulma went to the closest bathroom, which, unfortunately, was also the smallest. Grumbling to herself about limited sink space, she smoothed her wedding dress and began cleaning herself up. She could practically feel her clogged pores.</p>
<p>Part of her couldn’t believe this was happening. She’d actually gotten married. To Vegeta.<br/><br/>She had a feeling she knew what had put the idea in his head several months ago.</p>
<p>Bulma and her mother had a tradition - when their family was mentioned in the tabloids, they’d buy the issue, bring it home, and laugh at it. This particular copy proclaimed that <em>CAPSULE CORP. HEIRESS MARRIES HANDSOME, DARK-HAIRED STRANGER!</em> The only “evidence” of this wedding was a photo taken of her and Vegeta crossing the street together in West City. They weren’t even holding hands! <em>Holding hands in public with Vegeta? Forbidden.</em><br/><br/>Bulma and her mother were seated in the living room, giggling at the latest bullshit article, when Vegeta strode in. Trunks followed along closely behind, as he always did. His daddy was his idol. Both of them were sweaty, towels draped around their necks.</p>
<p>“What’s so humorous to you two?” Vegeta asked.<br/><br/>“Oh, just this.” Bulma showed him the cover article. “Apparently we’re married now.”<br/><br/>Vegeta took one look at the headline and scowled. “Why would they write this?”<br/><br/>“Because it sells and it makes them money. I'm just happy they didn't say I was pregnant with triplets."</p>
<p>“I want to see!” Trunks said. Bulma handed the magazine to Trunks, who squinted at it. “What’s it say?”<br/><br/>“It says your daddy and I got married.”<br/><br/>“Oh.” This response made Trunks seemingly even more confused. “But why aren’t you married?”</p>
<p>Vegeta flicked his son's head. Lightly, but hard enough to get his attention. “Don't be meddlesome. In our eyes, we are mated. We have no need of this ritual. Now, follow me. Time for a lunch break, brat.”<br/><br/>Bulma knew his words weren’t intended to make her feel sad, but they did. He probably didn't even notice. They were in a committed relationship, and the logical part of her understood that’s what a marriage was. But part of her, the emotional side, did want a wedding. She wanted to make vows and say: “I do.” But she was also content with their relationship and knew Vegeta didn’t place much value on the human ritual. And it wasn’t worth putting pressure on him. If she had learned anything about Vegeta, it was that he moved at his own glacial pace when it came to relationships.</p>
<p>“Honey, remember your dream wedding you said you wanted when you were a little girl? It was adorable!” Panchy asked. She’d probably noticed Bulma was melancholy and wanted to distract her by changing the topic of conversation. Her mother was oddly perceptive like that.<br/><br/>“Oh, yeah. A carriage ride, hundreds and hundreds of guests. A giant lace dress with pearls! A giant ballroom dance. And the reception in a castle.” Bulma laughed. “I don’t see that happening, Mom.”<br/><br/>And Bulma thought that was the end of the conversation.<br/><br/>Several days later, Vegeta took her out for dinner, which in itself was odd. Their quiet time was enjoyed around their home where Vegeta felt comfortable, and rarely in public. Vegeta also despised most restaurants she had taken him to. <em>“You pay so much money. Why do they give so little to you? This planet is ridiculous.”</em> Vegeta was used to Panchy-portions.<br/><br/>The couple had finished their dinner and ordered a cup of coffee, which their server brought to them. Vegeta saw the black coffee and scowled. “I would like caramel creamer.”<br/><br/>Bulma bit her lip to keep from giggling.<br/><br/>“Sir, I apologize," the server answered politely. "We don’t have caramel creamer.”<br/><br/>The scowl deepened. “Hazelnut, then.”<br/><br/>“Sir, we don’t have any flavored creamer. We only have cream and sugar.” The server gestured politely at the little tray he had placed in front of the couple.<br/><br/>Vegeta sighed, very loudly, very dramatically. “Fine.” The server nodded his head politely and took it as a cue to leave the couple’s table. “What kind of restaurant doesn’t have flavored creamer? Pathetic.”<br/><br/>“I know. It’s pitiful, really.”<br/><br/>“Indeed.” <em>Sarcasm. Woosh.</em> Vegeta poured in his cream and sugar, stirring sadly. “And why are these coffee cups so damned small?”<br/><br/>“Because it’s fancy and overpriced, honey. Like everything else here.”<br/><br/>“I don’t know why we go out to eat,” he grumbled.<br/><br/>Bulma poured cream and sugar into her own cup. <em>He’s right. This really is a tiny cup.</em> <em>Geez. </em>“This was your idea, mister!”<br/><br/>Vegeta stared in his cup, watching the creamer dissolve in clouds in the dark liquid. “Do you remember what we spoke of the other day?”<br/><br/>“We talk a lot. Be more specific.” She stirred her drink and took a sip. It tasted good. Bulma estimated there was about four sips remaining in the tiny cup, so she had better enjoy each one.<br/><br/>“Woman, I’m trying to be serious,” he grumbled. His cheeks flushed slightly.<br/><br/>“Okay, I’m sorry. What’s up?”<br/><br/>“About marriage. We talked about marriage.”<br/><br/>Bulma’s heart skipped a beat. <em>Don't get carried away. Not yet. </em>“Yeah, I remember. Why?”<br/><br/>Vegeta’s black eyes stared deep into hers. She could see the intensity in his expression. One of his hands held the tiny coffee spoon, tapping it lightly against the table. <em>He taps when he’s nervous.</em> “Do you want to get married?”<br/><br/>“I didn’t think you wanted to be married, Vegeta,” she spoke softly. “You’ve always said that to a Saiyan, we are married.”<br/><br/>“And that is correct.” Tap. Tap. Tap. “But you are an Earthling, and I need to consider that as well.”<br/><br/>Bulma swallowed her emotions and the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. She was pretty sure if she cried, Vegeta would run away in a panic. “Yes. Yes, I want to get married.”<br/><br/>Vegeta nodded. “Very well. Then I agree to a wedding.” He looked away awkwardly back to his tiny coffee cup. <em>Too much emotion. Can’t make eye contact.</em> Vegeta looked so very disappointed in his drink. “I would also like to stop at a coffee shop on the way home. This is disappointingly minuscule.”<br/><br/>Bulma grinned. “Yes. Yes, we can do that.”<br/><br/>And so the whirlwind wedding planning had begun.<br/><br/>Her parents were delighted, of course. Her mother was happy to help her make the arrangements, which was helpful - Bulma had to get the paperwork together, and getting legally married to an alien was a bitch.<br/><br/>Eventually, Bulma and Vegeta had agreed to be married at the courthouse together. Just the couple, her parents, and their son. Their friends (well, Bulma’s friends) would be invited to a reception at the restaurant where Vegeta sort-of proposed. Because with Vegeta and three half-Saiyans, Bulma needed a venue with a lot of food.<br/><br/>While they planned, Bulma and her mother just had to keep in mind that the groom was Vegeta.<br/><br/>It would be small. Vegeta couldn’t handle a large crowd, and Bulma understood that. Kissing in front of other people? Out of the question. Loud, irritating music to dance to? Not a chance.<br/><br/>Her mother had asked: “What about your first dance, honey?”<br/><br/>Bulma has stared at her with a <em>Really? With Vegeta?</em> face.<br/><br/>Paunchy laughed out loud. “That poor man would melt in embarrassment!”</p>
<p>Her dress was simple and white. She had kept one of her childhood wedding ideas - the dress had an intricate design of pearls. It was designed especially for her. It fit her perfectly. She was stunning and she knew it.<br/><br/>When her parents had seen her in it for the first time, they both cried. Trunks had given a thumbs-up.<br/><br/>Bulma wore her dress to the courthouse, Vegeta, his tuxedo. Her parents were so happy. And Trunks behaved, holding his grandmother’s hand and watching quietly. Bulma wasn’t sure if he knew exactly what was going on, but he understood this was important for his family.<br/><br/>Vegeta had repeated his vows so quietly that Bulma wasn’t even sure her parents heard him. But it didn’t matter. Bulma could hear them.</p>
<p>The reception went well. Goten and Trunks ran around the reception area, causing havoc and destruction in their wake. Chi-Chi ensured the damage was kept to a minimum.<br/><br/>Bulma’s friends still seemed like they were adjusting to the idea of her and Vegeta as a couple. Yamcha and Tien in particular. No one was rude enough to say anything to her, but she’d made enough fake, <em>Yes, of course I’m very happy for you!</em> smiles to recognize when someone else did it to her. <em>They’ll come around. Or not.</em><br/><br/>Bulma was delighted that Krillin and 18 came (Krillin seemed to be one of her few friends who was genuinely happy for her), and was even more delighted when she saw that 18 was pregnant. 18 was practically beaming. “I’m so happy for you,” Bulma whispered into 18’s ear, hugging her. She knew some of her friends were wary of Krillin and 18’s relationship, but Bulma was overjoyed that they'd found each other. And it’s not as if Bulma could judge anyone’s relationship. Her own was pretty weird.</p>
<p>Vegeta mostly kept to himself, occasionally approaching the catering table, which Bulma expected. But she was glad to see him speak with Gohan. Vegeta had always respected the young man. Gohan was so polite and well-mannered. He told Bulma he was making plans to attend high school in West City in a few years. <em>Goku would be so proud of him.</em><br/><br/>There were no disasters, no arguments. Everyone kept the peace. Bulma couldn’t have asked for a better reception.<br/><br/>Bulma looked at herself in the mirror, satisfied she’d removed every splotch of makeup from her face. She left the bathroom and walked slowly back to the kitchen, complaining to herself about her poor feet. Vegeta stood, leaning against the counter. “Bulma. Come outside with me. I need to show you something.”<br/><br/>“Sure.” Vegeta offered his hand to her and Bulma placed her soft hand in his calloused grip.<br/><br/>Vegeta led her to the backyard patio. All of the patio furniture had been pushed over to the side. On a table was Vegeta’s MP3 player connected to speakers, which Bulma had given to him to listen to music while he worked out. It was the first gift she’d given him, and, judging from his reaction of confusion and bewilderment when she’d handed it to him, it was the first gift he’d ever received.<br/><br/>“Vegeta, what’s going on?”<br/><br/>“I heard you and your mother speaking about what you wanted at your wedding. Your wedding isn’t what you wanted it to be.”<br/><br/>“Oh, Vegeta. We were talking about the wedding I wanted when I was a little girl. Our wedding was perfect.”<br/><br/>“Regardless, there is a tradition we did not follow. The dance between bride and groom.” Vegeta cleared his throat and glanced around the yard. <em>Worried about privacy in our fenced-in backyard with private security at 2:15 in the morning.</em> “Bulma, would you dance with me?”<br/><br/>She smiled, blinking back tears. “I would love to.”<br/><br/>Vegeta turned the MP3 player on. Bulma didn’t recognize the classical music that played, but it was lovely.<br/><br/>He approached her, and fumbled a bit with his hands. Bulma realized he had never done this before, which made the gesture even more meaningful to her. <em>His first formal dance, and it’s with me.</em> Bulma guided one hand to her waist and she held his other. Once he understood the movements, Bulma felt his hands relax as he became comfortable with her.<br/><br/>She swallowed a lump forming in her throat. A few short years ago, Vegeta would never have considered doing this for her. It would never have crossed his mind. He was too selfish and preoccupied with himself.<br/><br/>She was surprised at how far he had come. How far they both had.<br/><br/>“I love you, husband.”<br/><br/>"Wife." Bulma felt him place a soft kiss on the top of her head.<br/><br/>Under the stars, alone with each other, they had their first dance.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Shattered</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>We're getting close to the World Martial Arts Tournament, and Vegeta grapples with dark memories and insecurities.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>First of all, a big THANK YOU to those who nominated me for an Annual Award this year in the Romance category! What an honor. I'll post a link when voting is up :)</p><p>Thank you for the support, the comments, and the kudos.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chi-Chi was positively giddy. She was glowing with excitement. This was the happiest Bulma had seen her in years. “I get to see him in three days! Can you believe it?”</p><p>Bulma grinned. Her friend’s glee was contagious. “I can’t. It’s been so long.”</p><p>Three days until the Martial Arts Tournament. Three days until they got to see Goku.</p><p>Bulma knew Goku was only being given a one-day pass. <em>But still! A day!</em> Goku would be able to spend time with his family and meet his youngest son. Trunks was barely a year old when Goku died; now he would be able to see how much he had grown and how strong he’d become. And how proud Bulma was of him.</p><p>“Oh, I just know he’ll love sweet little Goten! And he’ll see Gohan all grown up! I’m just so happy, Bulma.”</p><p>Bulma sipped her coffee and laughed. “I can tell!”</p><p>The women had always been cordial towards each other, but Bulma becoming a mother and Goku’s death had brought them unexpectedly closer. Even though their lives were very different, Bulma still found it was easy to relate to Chi-Chi. <em>Saiyan husband. Half-Saiyan child. Not a lot of other women around in similar circumstances.</em> Play dates together had led Trunks and Goten to become the best of friends. Gohan occasionally visited Capsule Corp. since he was now attending school in the city. He was a wonderful older brother figure for Trunks, and even Vegeta didn’t complain when Gohan visited. He did, however, avoid Chi-Chi (“Kakarot’s shrill woman”) and Goten (“He distracts our son from his training with ridiculous games!”).</p><p>Bulma enjoyed her weekly visits from Chi-Chi. They sat in the kitchen, sipped coffee, and gossiped. The boys played with each other and gave their mothers much-needed space. It was wonderful.</p><p>“Goten is so excited to meet his dad. I overheard him talking with Trunks earlier. It was precious!”</p><p>“Yeah, this is going to be Trunk’s first time seeing him and actually remembering it.” Bulma tasted her coffee. Chi-Chi had volunteered to brew it, and, unsurprisingly, it was delicious. <em>The woman was a magician in the kitchen. Unlike some of us.</em> “Chi-Chi, this tastes wonderful.”</p><p>“Oh, it’s the least I can do. You’re always inviting us over to invade your home and eat your food!”</p><p>“Well, I have to keep a lot of it with Trunks and Vegeta around. We have plenty to spare.”</p><p>The women shared a laugh. Bulma could remember Chi-Chi complaining about cooking continuously to satisfy Goku’s voracious appetite, and then for her sons as well.</p><p>“Sorry to change the subject, but you know how nosy I am.” Chi-Chi winked at her friend. “How are things with you and Vegeta?”</p><p>Bulma took a long drink of coffee to politely delay her response. She was well aware that Chi-Chi barely tolerated her marriage to Vegeta. Chi-Chi had grown used to it since she couldn’t ignore it. But she didn’t approve of it, and she sure as hell didn’t like Vegeta. (It was mutual.) “You know, things are going great. We’re getting closer. He confides in me now. He spends a lot of time with Trunks. It’s... actually working really well.”</p><p>Chi-Chi nodded. “Well, that’s good to hear. I’m happy for you. I don’t hate your husband, you know. At least not all the time.”</p><p>Bulma knitted her eyebrows together. “Really?” <em>Pardon my skepticism.</em></p><p>“Really.”</p><p>As if on cue, Vegeta strolled into the kitchen. Giving Chi-Chi a glance, he asked, rather sardonically: “Is that so?” He was breathing deeply and disgustingly sweaty. Since he had announced he would be competing in the Tournament, Vegeta was training even harder than he usually did.</p><p>Chi-Chi sighed. “Well, you don’t make it easy.”</p><p>“Play nice, you two.” Bulma was used to being the referee between them. Sadly, she had to mediate between Chi-Chi and Vegeta much more than between Goten and Trunks. “There’s some coffee in the pot, honey. Chi-Chi just brewed it.”</p><p>Vegeta grunted.</p><p>“You’re so welcome, Vegeta!” Chi-Chi replied, her tone sickeningly sweet.</p><p>Vegeta didn’t even bother to respond. Getting himself a coffee mug from a cabinet, he started to pour coffee.</p><p>Chi-Chi giggled. “Look at you getting yourself some coffee. You’ve become so domesticated.”</p><p>Bulma almost shrieked at the unexpected sound of ceramic breaking and clattering to the floor in pieces. Vegeta stood over the shattered remnants of his mug, coffee pooling on the floor around his feet. He looked murderous.</p><p>Chi-Chi looked as stunned as Bulma. “Vegeta, I...” she stammered. “I didn’t mean...”</p><p>“Shut up,” he snarled. Coffee dripped from his hands from where he had broken the coffee cup in his tight grip. Angrily stepping on the pieces of the shattered mug, grinding them into pieces, Vegeta opened the kitchen door and slammed it behind him.</p><p>“Bulma, I am so sorry.” Chi-Chi put a hand to her face, covering her mouth. She was mortified. And probably a bit frightened. “I didn’t know that would upset him.”</p><p>“It’s okay. It really is. He has... things from his past. Words can make him remember things, you know?” Bulma leaned across the table and patted her friend’s hand reassuringly. “I'm sorry he acted that way, too. But I need to go talk to him.”</p><p>Chi-Chi nodded. “I know. Maybe I should go find the boys and get Goten home.”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Tell Trunks his dad and I will be in soon.” The women stood from the table and embraced each other. “Hey, don’t worry about it too much, okay?” The woman pulled away, but Bulma kept her hands on Chi-Chi’s shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll see you in three days. You and Goku both.”</p><p>“Thanks, Bulma. We’ll see you then.” Chi-Chi sighed. “And, you know, hopefully Vegeta won’t blast me when he sees me.”</p><p>Bulma gave her friend a wry grin, then left the house on a Vegeta Hunt. It wasn’t the first time he had left the house in a huff, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.</p><p>It had rained yesterday and the damp grass slipped through Bulma’s sandals and grazed her feet, tickling her. She trudged through the muddy yard towards her husband. Bulma knew where he’d be.</p><p>There was a pond at the edge of her parents’ property near the woods where Vegeta would go to be alone. Meditate, pout, tantrum... whatever he needed to do. And sure enough, that’s where she found him. Facing away from her, his body practically shaking from anger.</p><p>Bulma couldn’t sense energy like her husband or friends could, but even she could feel the anger surrounding Vegeta. The atmosphere around him sizzled, the rage emanating from him contrasting with the calm water next to him. She approached him slowly, walking along the edge of the small pond.</p><p>“Is that what I am to you?” he snapped. Vegeta wouldn’t even turn to face her. <em>Dammit. He knows I hate that.</em></p><p>Bulma hesitated. Despite the oppressive heat, she shivered. “Huh? Vegeta, I don’t...”</p><p>“A housepet. Your own little prince of a fallen warrior race for you to parade about.” His words were sharp. Angry. Bitter.</p><p>Bulma took a deep breath. <em>His first reaction when he's hurt is always anger. Be calm. </em>“I’m sorry for what Chi-Chi said and I'll talk to to her about it. But taking it out on me isn’t fair.”</p><p>For a long moment, he said nothing, standing stolidly still. <em>A spiky-haired, furious statue.</em> She noticed his right hand shaking, his fingernails seemingly digging into his palms. And then, finally: “He used to call me his pet monkey. His domesticated pet.”</p><p>Bulma’s heart ached as a breath caught in her throat. She didn’t have to ask who <em>he</em> was. The galactic tyrant who had conscripted the Saiyan race into his wars and then betrayed them by destroying their world. The name Vegeta would sometimes mumble in his nightmares when he was restless in his sleep. She bit her lip and realized she was at a loss for words. <em>Shit. That rarely happens.</em> “I’m sorry. I know that must have been painful to hear.”</p><p>“I do not want your pity.”</p><p>“Okay, that’s fair. But is that what upset you?” Bulma took a few more slow steps toward him. <em>Nothing. No reaction.</em> “We have to talk about this, Vegeta. I haven’t seen you that angry in years. Brushing me aside won't make this better.”</p><p>Vegeta still refused to turn and look at her. <em>Is he being a stubborn jerk? Or is he just too agitated to even look at me right now?</em> “Not entirely. Any Saiyan would view me the same as Kakarot’s wife. I have become domesticated. A disappointment.”</p><p>“Excuse me? Saiyans would be disappointed? Because you're happily married?” Bulma closed the physical distance between them even as she felt an emotional divide growing. She refused to let it separate them. “I gave you a choice. You didn’t have to stay.” She touched his still-trembling hand gently, and it seemed to rouse him from dark thoughts. “But you did. And if you regret that, I need to know.”</p><p>Finally, he turned to look at her, his black eyes a maelstrom of emotions. Anger, sadness, embarrassment, confusion. “I would not leave. I feel contentment with you that I never have before.”</p><p>“Then what’s the problem, Vegeta?”</p><p>“It is... strange for me to feel satisfied with my life. I am unaccustomed to peace. To a family. I feel restless. I feel complacent.”</p><p>“Oh.” Not for the first time, Bulma considered how much her family would benefit from therapy together.  She took his hands in hers. Frowning, she realized his right hand was damp. Studying his palm, Bulma saw he had dug his nails so deeply into his hand with frustration that it was bleeding, “I know this is a big adjustment for you. But loving your family doesn’t make you a failure. You can be a badass warrior and have a family you care about. That’s not a weakness.” She almost said <em>look at Goku</em> but stopped herself in time. That would have been the worst possible thing she could have said. She kissed him gently on the cheek. “Nothing about you is weak. You are so far from a disappointment to me.”</p><p>Vegeta studied her as she held his bloody hand in hers. His eyes seemed calmer, less emotional, and Bulma touched his cheek with her other hand, brushing his soft skin. Sometimes, he would flinch away from her touch. This time, he leaned into it. “I don’t deserve you.”</p><p>Bulma pressed a finger to her lips. “Honey, we’ve talked about this. I get to choose what I deserve. Now, let’s get this hand patched up. Just like old times, huh?” She smiled at him to help relieve the tension.</p><p>“Very well,” he mumbled in response, sounding like a child who had just been scolded. "And I apologize for frightening you and that... harpy."</p><p>“I know. Now, it’s getting late. We’ll get you bandaged and fed. You’ll feel better in the morning.” <em>Right?</em></p><p>The couple crossed the lawn to their home together. Bulma glanced at her husband out of the corner of her eye. No longer angry, a good deal more calm, but still discontent. Despite his assurances, she felt uneasy. <em>Is he truly happy? Does he regret choosing this life with me?</em></p><p>His words had unsettled her.</p><p>She had thought their marriage and their relationship was stronger than it ever had been. Vegeta was beginning to open up to her, sharing bits and pieces of his past. He seemed comfortable with his family and his life. Bulma never considered that enjoying a serene home life would cause her husband to feel... un-Saiyan.</p><p>Bulma understood a bit of Saiyan psychology. Fighting brought out the best in them. It made Vegeta feel self-assured, powerful and determined. Maybe the Martial Arts Tournament would enable Vegeta to get his frustration and anger out, and regain confidence in himself and his place on Earth. And his place with their family.</p><p><em>That’s a big maybe.</em> She swallowed. And tried to ignore the anxiety she felt growing inside her stomach.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chocolate Caramel Forgiveness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The first night after Buu's defeat, Bulma and Vegeta have a difficult, necessary conversation.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks again for the comments and kudos! Voting begins soon for The Prince and Heiress Annual Awards, and I'll post a link when it's up. I appreciate all of the support!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bulma stroked her son’s thick violet hair, lightly curling it through her fingers. He was sprawled in their bed, the sheets wrapped loosely around him. Trunks had begged to stay with his parents in their bed tonight and had asked Bulma to stay with him until he was asleep. He had been careful to say it wasn’t to make him feel better, because of course he wasn’t scared. It was for Bulma’s sake because she’d been so worried about him. She smiled to herself. <em>Okay, tough guy.</em> Bulma ruffled his hair. She was proud of him. He had been so brave.</p><p>Trunks had practically been glued to his father’s side that evening. And who could blame him after everything he’d been through? The weight of the world had, unfairly, been placed on his young shoulders. And in the end, it hadn’t been enough. It had come down to Goku and Vegeta, putting aside their differences and working together.</p><p>Speaking of Vegeta...</p><p>He had showered and changed out of his battered clothing and was obviously waiting to speak with her. Bulma had told him she would join him on their balcony once she had taken care of their son, and she fully intended to.<em> Eventually. Hey, I didn’t say when.</em></p><p>Trunks had fallen asleep ten minutes ago, and still she stayed with him, lingering in the bedroom and watching him gently snore. Bulma rarely shied from confrontation. Letting things fester solved nothing and she knew it. She sighed quietly to herself. <em>Nothing like this ever happens in my smutty books. The prince never becomes possessed by an evil wizard, massacres innocent people to provoke his rival into a fight, then kills himself in a suicide blast. This is definitely new territory for me. What do I even say to him? After all of this?</em></p><p>When she had seen Vegeta at the Lookout, alive and well, she was overjoyed. Of course she was. Her husband had miraculously returned to life. But after the happiness faded, the hurt and sadness from all that had transpired remained. On the ride home, the couple was silent. Trunks filled in the quiet with his chatter, ecstatic to have his father home safe and his family together. The closer they had come to their home, a place where she should be eager to return to and feel safe after the horror they had been through, she felt nothing but dread. Bulma had so much to say to him, and none of it would be easy.</p><p>
  <em>Avoiding this won’t make it go away.</em>
</p><p>Bulma stood from the bed, giving another look to her sweetly sleeping boy. Leaning over him, she kissed him softly on his small cheek. He stirred a bit when her lips brushed his face, scrunched up his nose, and fell back into a deep sleep. She opened the sliding glass door to join her husband on their balcony, closing the door as quietly as she could behind her. Trunks usually slept like a rock, but she reasoned he may be a bit more unsettled tonight.</p><p>Vegeta looked exhausted. Dende has healed him physically, but emotionally, he was far from whole. “I made this for you.” Vegeta handed her a mug of coffee. “Chocolate caramel creamer. That’s all that your parents had.”<em> Leave it to Vegeta to come back from the dead, save the world, and grumble about the flavor of coffee creamer.</em></p><p>Bulma nodded in thanks as she took it from him. “Well, I guess grocery shopping wasn’t on the priority list with the apocalypse and all.”</p><p>Her sarcasm made the ghost of a smirk appear on his face. “Fair.” He took a sip and made a face. “But this is hardly my favorite.”</p><p>Vegeta said nothing else, obviously waiting for her to initiate the conversation. <em>As usual.</em> Bulma rested her arms on the balcony railing. Vegeta stood near her, but there was a respectful distance between them. He didn’t know how she felt or what her reaction was going to be, and to be fair, neither did she. It was a chilly evening and holding the warm mug helped. She took a sip of her drink, smiling. “I like it. This is tasty. Thanks. I needed this.” She looked over the streets of West City, listening to the noises of conversation and traffic. Life in the city was adjusting back to normal. But Bulma felt nothing close to normal. “I’m going to be honest. I don’t know how to start this conversation with you.”</p><p>“I assume you have questions.”</p><p>“I do. I guess we can begin there.” Bulma took a finger and ran it along the edge of her coffee mug, watching the steam rise in the dim light of the balcony lamp. “Did you let Babidi possess you?”</p><p>“I did. It was a brief moment of weakness, but that is all it took.” His gravely voice was low and ashamed.</p><p>Her veins turned to ice. She knew the answer before he responded. She had felt it in her bones. Bulma had always respected her husband for his honesty, and even though it hurt like hell to hear, she appreciated that he told her the truth. <em>Don’t cry. Don’t break. This discussion won’t get any easier.</em> She blinked away the tears threatening to spill from her blue eyes. “Okay. Were you in Hell when you died?”</p><p>Vegeta nodded curtly. “I was.”</p><p>“Alright. That’s all I needed to know.” She took a long drink of her coffee, enjoying the warm chocolate caramel flavor. She glanced at her husband, who looked a bit confused and wary. <em>He must be thinking I’m going to lull him into complicity and then bite his head off or something.</em></p><p>“Really? Nothing more?” he asked skeptically.</p><p>“I don’t know what else there is to say. You know you fucked up. Do you want me to yell at you? Call you a selfish jerk? You already know you were. Whatever I could say, you've already told yourself.” Bulma finished her coffee and placed the mug on the balcony railing.  She clasped her hands together, partly to help them to stay warm, and partly to calm herself. The caffeine had made her even more anxious. <em>Get in control of your feelings, girl. Your hands are beginning to shake.</em></p><p>“I need you to know...” he began to say to her.</p><p>“You broke my heart,” she blurted out, her voice beginning to wobble with emotion. “When I saw what you had become, when I saw you killing innocent people again... hell, you almost killed me. It broke me inside. And then I felt you die. I knew. Even before Goku told me.”</p><p>“I know.” He stared into his mug. She could tell how guilty he felt, but making him feel a bit remorseful for his shitty behavior wasn’t her only intent.</p><p>“Vegeta, you need to make a choice. I am not going to be less of a priority to you than beating Goku in a fucking fight, and I damn well won’t let you treat our son that way. If being stronger than Goku is more important to you than your family...” Her voice trailed off, leaving the heavy implications left unsaid.</p><p>“It is not.”</p><p>“How can I trust that? How can I know—“</p><p>And then he interrupted her sharply. “I need to tell you. What do you think I experienced in Hell?” His dark eyes, drained and ashamed, seem to bore through her.</p><p>“I don’t know. Getting defeated by Goku over and over?” She almost spat the name Goku in bitterness. She had grown so tired of this. The same rivalry. The same hatred. An endless circle of jealousy that never ended.</p><p>“It had nothing to do with Kakarot. I will only speak of this experience once.” He placed his coffee mug on the balcony railing and approached her, his boots silent on the balcony’s stone floor. To her surprise, he placed his hands on her cheeks, tenderly but hesitantly, trying to convey his emotions but nervously anticipating her reaction. Her heart fluttered. <em>His hands have killed so many people. How can he be so gentle with me?</em> “I felt the pain and hurt you experienced due to my selfishness. Facing your pregnancy and parenthood alone, when I failed to save you and Trunks on the battlefield with the Androids, all of the hateful things I told you when I tried to push you out of my heart out of fear, when I betrayed you and turned to Babidi... all of it. And I knew I would never see you again. I would never have the opportunity to apologize for all that I’ve done. I was alone, in the darkness, with only my regret and self-loathing and my thoughts. And my thoughts were only of you.” Vegeta tucked a stray blue hair slowly behind her ear. “Hell is... it is being apart from you. From my wife. And I am sorry. For everything.” He kissed her softly on the forehead.</p><p>Bulma had imagined his apology a dozen times today. She had told herself she would give him a stern: <em>“Thanks for your apology but we have to work through this.”</em> She would stand her ground and be firm. <em>He deserved it. Jerk.</em> Then she would walk away from him, leaving him alone to mope and think a million ways to make this up to her and Trunks.</p><p>Instead, she collapsed into his waiting arms in tears. For all her determination to be strong, she fell apart.</p><p>One of his arms held her closely to him while the other rested against her back. His hand stroked her hair gently. Vegeta’s chin rested comfortably on the top of her head as she sobbed into his chest. (Was it her imagination, or did she feel tears from his black eyes drop into her hair?) He smelled like his shower gel, the scent comforting and familiar. His arms around her were steadying and warm.</p><p>
  <em>It's not fair what he does to me.<br/>
</em>
</p><p>“Don’t you ever, EVER do anything like that again, you bastard.”</p><p>“You have my word,” he whispered quietly.</p><p>Bulma went to bed first. Vegeta had wanted to grump about on the balcony after she went to sleep. When she laid down, Trunks instinctively snuggled up in her arms. He hadn’t wanted to cuddle with her in years (<em>“I’m too big for that now, Mom! I’m not a baby!”</em>). She almost cried again from the emotions of her conversation with Vegeta and the love and gratefulness of her son being with her. But Trunks needed to rest more than she needed to be emotional, and she didn’t want to wake him from sleep he sorely needed. And eventually, despite the caffeine and the sentimentality that still ached her heart, she dozed off.</p><p>Her eyes fluttered open in the morning as the first rays of sunlight stretched through the windows and into their bed. During the night, Trunks had rolled over next to his father. Vegeta’s face rested next to his, an arm on his son protectively. He looked so peaceful.</p><p><em>What an asshole of a prince. </em>He was so damned hard to love, but she was determined to do it. He was demanding, arrogant, prideful. And driven, passionate, and unexpectedly tender. Not all was forgiven. All three would need time to heal from this and she knew that. But her wonderful, beautiful, unusual family... they were going to come out of this stronger. She was Bulma Fucking Briefs, and she wasn't going to let anything tear the three of them apart.</p><p>Bulma smiled, and quietly slid out of bed to begin her day.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Latte Date</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bulma and Vegeta have a much needed date. I also decided they needed some much needed sex, since it's been awhile since I wrote some smut. ;-)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Voting is now open for The Prince and the Heiress 2020 Annual Awards! To vote for this fic (listed under the Romance category) and see all the other nominees, please go here: https://t.co/dnpZBSjQsg. Thank you all again!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Can I have your name please?” The barista held a marker to the plastic cup, expectantly waiting for her response.</p><p>“Bulma Briefs!”</p><p>The barista looked a bit surprised. <em>Yes, the beautiful Bulma Briefs who is constantly in the tabloids. The impossibly rich, brilliant inventor who helps to run her father’s company. That’s me!</em> The barista wrote her name down on the cup and smiled. “Two vanilla lattes for Bulma!”</p><p>Vegeta, unsurprisingly, had fled to a table in the corner to hide while she waited for their coffees to be made. Bulma met his gaze and exaggeratedly waved at him. He responded by crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. <em>There’s my Prince Charming!</em></p><p>Bulma’s parents had offered to watch Trunks for the morning so Bulma and Vegeta could spend some time alone. Since everything that had happened with Buu, Vegeta was... different. And more pleasant to be around. He made an effort to spend time with his family. Yes, he still disappeared for hours each day to train. But he ate meals with them regularly. He asked Trunks what his tutor was teaching him, genuinely interested in what he was learning. He talked with Bulma’s mother about her gardening, and with her father about his inventions and his work.</p><p>And he spent more time with Bulma. He came to bed with her every night to sleep. <em>No more literal crashing in the Gravity Chamber from exhaustion!</em> Physical attention in public still flustered him, but behind closed doors, he was attentive and loving. They even cuddled together.</p><p>He had begun to wear Earth clothes, and Bulma was sure to tell him how handsome he looked in them. He would “hmph” at her, but she knew he enjoyed the compliments.</p><p>He was still an asshole, but he was an asshole who loved them, and he made sure his family knew it. In his own, Vegetaish way.</p><p>Vegeta had apparently never enjoyed a latte, and Bulma wasn’t quite sure how that was possible since he’d been living on Earth for a decade. 18 had told her about a trendy new cafe that had just opened, and if 18 and Krillin were hip enough to visit it, Bulma and Vegeta certainly were.</p><p>It was certainly more fashionable than the coffee places the couple usually visited. The lighting was low and muted, naturally lending itself to quiet conversation. The decor was certainly... interesting. Very minimal and sparse, futuristic black and white sculptures scattered throughout, although Bulma did appreciate the brick wall that had been left exposed. <em>Fancy.</em></p><p>Bulma didn’t particularly care about the ambiance. She just cared about the coffee and the company.</p><p>“Two tall vanilla lattes for Bulma!” a barista called, setting the drinks down at the end of the counter.</p><p>“Thanks so much!” Bulma took the two cups. She hoped they were worth the zenni she paid. The heiress didn’t care about money, but she did care about quality. She took a sip and immediately regretted it. <em>Hot hot hot!</em> But Bulma could taste the drink beneath the searing pain. <em>Damn, that’s good.</em></p><p>“Can you believe we’re on a date? We’re actually alone!” Bulma sat at the table and passed Vegeta his drink. The seats were wooden and quite uncomfortable, forcing Bulma to sit up straight. And a reminder of how poor her posture usually was.</p><p>“Yes. I can believe it. Because I am also on the date,” Vegeta replied drily. He took his coffee and gulped quite a bit down. It was still piping hot, but since he was a Super Special Alien, it didn’t affect him whatsoever.</p><p>“Oh, come on! Relax!” Bulma stirred her drink to cool it down.</p><p>“I am relaxed,” he grumbled. Vegeta stirred his drink well, studying the steamed milk as it swirled in his cup. “How is... your work?”</p><p>He’d been trying so hard to improve small talk and conversation between the two of them. “It’s going well. Part of what I’ve been working on is new armor for you.”</p><p>That certainly piqued his interest. “What armor? What are the improvements? I need to know the material. What is...”</p><p>“Easy, Badman. I’m not quite there yet. Give me a week or two.”</p><p>He nodded. “I appreciate it.”</p><p>“You damn well better. I work hard for you, mister. So, how’s training?”</p><p>He shrugged. “Fine. I believe I am close to obtaining the next step beyond Super Saiyan. Whis is an excellent teacher.”</p><p><em>He didn’t even mention surpassing Goku! What progress.</em> “Is Trunks keeping up his training with you?”</p><p>Vegeta nodded proudly. “He is. No matter how much Kakarot’s brat attempts to distract him with pointless frivolity.”</p><p>“You know, it’s okay for kids to play and relax.”</p><p>“Their video games are pointless.”</p><p>“Are you just upset because the kids always kick your butt in them?”</p><p>“They do not always defeat me! And I am not upset!” Vegeta snapped.</p><p>Bulma giggled at his outrage. “Sure, buddy. Whatever you say. Didn’t Saiyan kids play?”</p><p>“No. We trained to fight. Well...” He thought for a moment. “I suppose battling Saibamen could be considered a game of sorts.”</p><p>“Nope. Not a game.” Bulma blew on her latte to cool it. It was delicious but not worth a burnt tongue. “Hey, you said you had met Beerus before, right? When you were a kid?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“And...” Bulma motioned for him to continue.</p><p>“He humiliated my father. I attacked him in retaliation. It went rather poorly.”</p><p>“Oh. Where was Tarble when this was going on?”</p><p>“I don’t know. Cowering in a corner?”</p><p>“Be nice!” Bulma scolded. “Tarble is so kindhearted and sweet.”</p><p>“I am aware,” Vegeta responded with gritted teeth. “Which is why our father did not approve of him.”</p><p>Bulma took another sip of coffee, relieved it was cool enough for for her to gulp down. “What was your father like? You don’t talk about him much.”</p><p>“It has been so long. I’m unsure what are my memories and what are my projections of what I wanted him to be. But I know he was an excellent leader and he was respected. Nappa would tell me that.”</p><p>“What about your mother? You’ve never mentioned her.”</p><p>“I... remember very little.” Vegeta took a straw wrapper between his fingers, playing with it idly. “I was young when she died. I remember long, black hair. I remember looking up at her face once when I sat in her lap. And that is all.”</p><p>“Oh. It’s understandable. I know you were young, but I’m sorry you don’t have more memories of your parents.” Bulma bounced her crossed leg on her knee, which she knew was one of her nervous tics. And yes, speaking about Vegeta’s past still sometimes made her nervous, because it was a part of him that was literally alien that she could never fully understand. “Do you ever think about Saiyan women?”</p><p>“Why would I think about them? They’re all dead.”</p><p>“I know, but...” Bulma bit her lip. <em>You’re wandering dangerously into insecure teenager territory, girl.</em> “Haven’t you ever wondered what it would have been like to marry a Saiyan instead of a human?”</p><p>“Hmph. Perhaps when I was younger.” Vegeta took a long drink of his latte. She could tell he enjoyed it. The Prince of All Saiyans had a sweet tooth. “But since meeting you... no.” The lighting in the corner was dim, but Bulma could swear his cheeks were flushing.</p><p>“But you could have had a strong Saiyan wife. A warrior. I mean, haven’t you ever thought about...”</p><p>“Hah! Woman, you don’t give yourself enough credit.”</p><p>Bulma scrunched up her face and drained her coffee cup. She was many things, but a warrior? Definitely not. “I’m hardly a fighter.”</p><p>“I have never seen you back down from a confrontation. Hell, you slapped a God of Destruction in the face. You are the strongest woman I’ve ever known. I have no need of a Saiyan wife. I have you.”</p><p>“Oh, Vegeta. That’s possibly the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.” And she meant it.</p><p>“Tch. Whatever. I was merely stating the truth.” Vegeta sat back in his very uncomfortable seat, purposefully looking away from her.</p><p>“Do you have any idea how turned on am I right now?” Bulma smiled coyly, and winked for good measure. “I’d fuck you right here.”</p><p>“What the...” Vegeta sputtered in embarrassment. “Keep your voice down! We’re in public!”</p><p>Bulma laughed at his discomfort. <em>It’s so much fun teasing this man.</em> “Relax. No one can hear us while we’re skulking in the corner. Why don’t we go for a walk?”</p><p>“You are so damned vulgar.” The faint blush on his cheeks had evolved into fiery crimson. “You have no shame.”</p><p>“Absolutely not. None at all.” Bulma brushed their straw wrappers and stirrers from the middle of the table, extending her hand out to her husband’s. “Come on. Let’s get out of here and have some fun.”</p><p>Vegeta studied her hand for a moment before he cautiously took it in his. “What are you planning?”</p><p>“Why don’t you come with me and find out?”</p><p>Vegeta’s only response was to swallow and nod.</p><p>Bulma scampered out of the cafe, leading her bewildered husband by the hand. It was still early in the morning on a weekend (well, since having a kid and being woken up at all hours of the day, Bulma didn’t consider it very early in the morning), and hardly anyone was on the sidewalks of West City.</p><p>“Where are we going?” Vegeta mumbled.</p><p>“To the car.”</p><p>“Why are we going to the car?”</p><p>“To have sex in it.”</p><p>“What?” Vegeta tried hard to sound as horrified as possible in a very hushed voice. “We can’t have sex in the car!”</p><p>“And why can’t we have sex in the car?”</p><p>“Because of the people around the car!”</p><p>“Oh, we’re parked in the middle of nowhere. It’s early in the day. No one will see. Are you... scared? Intimidated by the thought of having sex with your beautiful wife?” She gave an exaggerated pout. <em>He’ll take the bait.</em> She knew there was no way he'd back down from a challenge involving sex.</p><p>Vegeta’s black eyes narrowed. “Damn you, Woman. You have some nerve.”</p><p>“Of course I do. That’s why you love me.”</p><p>When they reached their car, Bulma practically threw the door open. Throwing her purse carelessly to the floor, Vegeta climbed into the seat next to her. After closing the door, he manually locked it. <em>As if that makes us less likely to be seen. There’s not a cloaking device on this thing, buddy.</em></p><p>Bulma touched his cheek gently. “Are you okay with this? No pressure if...”</p><p>Vegeta responded by taking her roughly and placing her in his lap. She looked in his face, his desire for her obvious. <em>He wants me.</em> Bulma’s legs straddled him, her dress creeping upward. Their lips met, kissing desperately. Her fingers fumbled to unbutton his shirt while he massaged her thighs, pushing her dress up further. Finally, she succeeded in opening his shirt and she was rewarded with his perfectly muscular chest. <em>He’s beautiful.</em> Bulma squirmed to the side so he could slide her panties off. Teasingly, he brushed a finger slowly against her slick entrance, causing her to gasp. Returning her back firmly in his lap, Vegeta smirked at her, obviously enjoying the reaction he had received.</p><p>“Stop teasing me and take off your damn pants!” Bulma complained.</p><p>“Do you ever shut up?” he countered, but he obliged and unbuttoned his trousers.</p><p>Pulling his underwear down, Bulma could see he was more than ready for her. Sinking down into him, Bulma moaned (<em>he fit into her perfectly</em>), and as she began moving and pumping, she felt his body matching her rhythm. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she gripped his hair roughly, pulling it. Vegeta responded by grabbing her ass with one hand and fondling her nipples with the other. He sighed into her mouth as they kissed, tongues battling each other, and Vegeta squeezed her ass hard enough to make her squeal.</p><p>“Fuck, Vegeta.” She was so close and he knew it. He shifted his hips and changed his angle slightly, and Bulma gritted her teeth to stop from screaming. She came in a rush of pleasure, crying out so loudly (<em>oops</em>) she wondered if they heard her in the cafe. Bulma shuddered against Vegeta as he held her tightly. She looked at her husband’s face and his satisfied, smug grin. His expression said:<em> It’s my turn now.</em></p><p>Bulma began pumping again. He slapped her ass - not enough to hurt her, but enough to get her attention. “Harder, Woman,” he ordered. “I’m almost...” Bulma held his shoulders and practically slammed herself on him, over and over, as he thrust up to meet her. Vegeta’s body shivered as he climaxed. Bulma felt him spill inside of her he called out, losing himself in his lust, his initial nervousness completely forgotten.</p><p>The couple rested in each other’s arms, Bulma still in his lap, breathless. Vegeta held her protectively, his arms wrapped around her body, one hand idly making circular motions on her back.</p><p>“I love you, husband.” Bulma rested her forehead against his. They were both clammy from sweat. <em>Huh. I wonder if that counts as my exercise for the day.</em></p><p>“Wife.” He kissed her softly.</p><p>“So, what did you think of our date?”</p><p>Vegeta laughed, a sound she was rarely rewarded with. “I suppose you’ve convinced me to do this again.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Coffee with the Clown</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Goku accidentally interrupts our favorite couple. Written because I love Bulma and Goku's friendship, and how much closer Goku and Vegeta become in Super (although we all know Vegeta would never admit it).</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Voting is now open for The Prince and the Heiress 2020 Annual Awards! To vote for this fic (listed under the Romance category) and see all the other nominees, please go here: https://t.co/dnpZBSjQsg. Thank you all again for the kudos and the comments!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Honey, are you okay?” Chi-Chi’s forehead creased with worry. “You look pale.”</p><p>What Bulma wanted to say: <em>Fuck no. I’m not okay. I witnessed a terrifying monster come back from the dead to seek revenge on us. I saw my husband killed and the Earth destroyed. It was a pretty bad day, you know?</em> But that would have been hurtful, and Chi-Chi didn’t deserve that. Nothing that happened today was her friend's fault. What she said was: “Yeah, thanks for asking. I have a headache. I’m going to go in for a bit and drink some caffeine and take something for it.”</p><p>Chi-Chi nodded. “You should stay inside for a bit and rest. It’s been a long day for everyone.”</p><p>“Maybe I will. Thanks.” Bulma smiled at her friend. She did appreciate Chi-Chi’s concern. Normally, Bulma enjoyed being around others. She was social by nature and enjoyed being the hostess. And this was a party she was hosting at her own house. It would be rude to step away. But she needed to.</p><p>Bulma slid the balcony door open to escape from the celebration, if only for a moment. She spared a glance back. Everything seemed to be fine. People were happy. Vegeta was even speaking with Goku, and the pair was smiling at each other. <em>Everyone will be fine without you for a few minutes, girl.</em> Bulma went into her house and slid the door behind her.</p><p>She traveled the winding halls of Capsule Corp. to the kitchen. Bulma did have an awful headache. She switched on the coffee maker and opened the refrigerator door. There had been plenty of caramel creamer yesterday and now it had mysteriously disappeared. <em>Darn you and your sweet tooth, Vegeta.</em> Sighing, she grabbed the Irish cream-flavored creamer. It wasn’t her favorite, but she would take just about anything at the moment. While the coffee brewed, she dug through the medicine cabinet for pain reliever. <em>Aha. The good stuff.</em> She had prescription strength headache medication, and, thankfully, a handful of pills clattered together at the bottom of the bottle. <em>Desperate times call for desperate measures.</em> She normally started with one pill, but today, she took two. Tossing the bottle back in the cabinet (<em>organization is overrated</em>), she turned her attention back to her coffee. Pouring herself a mug, she dumped the creamer in, stirring it well. She took a sip. <em>Eh. It’s okay.</em> As long as it helped to chase away the headache (not to mention give her the energy to make it through the rest of the party), it would serve its purpose. She was careful to put the creamer back in the fridge. Bulma had scolded Vegeta many times for leaving creamer out on the counter, and if she did the same, he’d never let her forget it.</p><p>Bulma leaned against the kitchen countertop. <em>Well, today sucked.</em> Bulma had never seen Frieza before today. She'd heard stories, of course. The fearsome, lizard-like tyrant lived up to his reputation. Cruel, cunning, consumed by thoughts of revenge. Bulma closed her eyes. She kept replaying the destruction of Earth in her mind. The look of horror on Vegeta’s face as the planet was torn apart. Her realization that not only was her husband dead, but so was her son, her parents, and her friends. And then the emotional whiplash she experienced when Whis reversed time and Goku had saved them all. Much to Vegeta’s irritation.</p><p>Bulma put the mug on the counter, held her face in her hands, and sobbed.</p><p>She knew, logically, that whenever her husband fought an enemy, especially one as dangerous as Frieza, there was a chance he would never come back to her. Death was always a possibility when you lived the dangerous life that Vegeta did. And not only had she seen him die, denied vengeance against the monster who had tormented him since he was a child, she had seen the death of everyone she loved. It was fucking painful.</p><p>“Bulma? I felt your emotions...” She wasn’t surprised he had come to her. He had a habit of doing that when she was upset. Vegeta looked concerned, hovering in the kitchen doorway. She could decode the turmoil in his mind. <em>Did I do something wrong? Should I comfort her? Does she need space? </em></p><p>Bulma decided to make the decision easy for him. She threw herself in his arms. “I saw you die today,” she wailed against his chest. “I saw everyone die today.”</p><p>Vegeta a few years ago would have recoiled in terror from her fierce embrace. Instead, his strong arms immediately wrapped around her small body. “I know. I know you did.” One of his hands moved and she felt him stroke her hair. <em>He loves my hair.</em> The thought of Vegeta never playing with her hair again made her cry even harder. “I owe you an apology. I did not protect you today.”</p><p>Bulma pulled her face away from his chest and studied his expression. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“What benefit is there to my training if I cannot protect my family? How pathetic can I be to fail to protect those I love?”</p><p>She hadn’t even considered what Vegeta must have been going through and how he felt. Bulma chided herself. <em>You’re not the only one who’s had a really bad day.</em> “No one could have expected that to happen.”</p><p>“I should have. I know what he was like. Unpredictable bastard. He’d do anything to be victorious.” Vegeta’s eyes were stormy, furious. “I did not earn the killing blow. Kakarot took it from me. Again.”</p><p>“I’m so sorry. I know,” Bulma replied softly. She was no longer crying. She felt she had no more tears left to shed.</p><p>“I’ve made peace with the necessity of Kakarot’s actions. But I’m angry with myself. I should have finished off that son of a bitch quickly. There should have been no opportunity for Frieza to do what he did.” Bulma felt his grip around her tighten, as if he needed to reassure himself that she was there. “And again, I failed my people. And I failed you as well.”</p><p>Bulma put a finger to his lips. “You didn’t fail me, Vegeta. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now. But I can assure you, you’re the last thing from a failure to me.”</p><p>Vegeta took Bulma’s finger and guided her hand to his cheek, which she held in her hand, stroking it gently. “Thank you," he murmured. Her touch seemed to soothe him. He rarely said he loved her. But she knew. Her heart was fluttering in her chest like a young girl after her first kiss.</p><p>“I would ask you to promise to always come home to me after a battle, but I guess that isn’t possible, huh?”</p><p>Vegeta considered his words carefully before slowly shaking his head. “No. And I would not make a promise I cannot keep. But what I can swear is that, for as long as I’m alive, I will be by your side. Nothing is more important to me than you and our son. And I will keep both of you safe from harm. This battle was a lesson that I...”</p><p>“Stop talking.” Bulma’s lips attacked her husband’s, and he responded eagerly. Kissing her passionately, Vegeta lifted her and placed her on the kitchen counter. Slowly, teasingly, (while Bulma whined) Vegeta pulled off one of his gloves and dropped it on the floor. His calloused hand slipped under her thin white shirt, feeling her full breasts. He tugged on her bra and she lifted her arms so he could pull her shirt off. </p><p>“Hey guys! Should I come back?”</p><p>Bulma shrieked while Vegeta sputtered in outrage. “What the fuck, Kakarot?” Vegeta yelled.</p><p>Goku shrugged and nervously put a hand behind his head. “Well, I wanted a cup of coffee, and Chi-Chi said Bulma was making some. But I can come back when you’re done. It’s cool.”</p><p>“Why don’t you ever knock, you idiot?” Vegeta snarled. He was sliding his glove back on, face blushing. Replacing his armor and his dignity.</p><p>“It’s a kitchen!” Goku protested.</p><p>Bulma laughed.<em> If I have to be interrupted during a make out session, I guess I’d rather it be Goku than any other of my goofy friends. Ugh.</em> “Guys, it’s fine. Vegeta, can you check on the kids? Goku, I’ll pour you a cup.”</p><p>Vegeta stalked off, mumbling about clowns and idiots.</p><p>“Is he mad at me?” Goku wondered.</p><p>“Nah. Just being Vegeta. You take your coffee black, right?”</p><p>“Yeah! Thanks Bulma.”</p><p>Bulma got another coffee mug and poured some for her friend. After handing it to him, she picked up her own mug and sipped from it. It was lukewarm but passable. “Does it taste okay?”</p><p>“It’s great!” Goku gave her a thumbs up.</p><p>“Want to know a secret? Vegeta dumps a lot of creamer in his coffee. I mean... a lot. He has a sweet tooth like you wouldn’t believe!”</p><p>Goku gasped like this was the most salacious gossip he had ever heard. “No way!”</p><p>Bulma nodded seriously. “Oh, it’s true. I promise.”</p><p>“So I guess you and Vegeta are doing pretty well, huh?” He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.</p><p>Bulma playfully hit him on the shoulder. “Fucking pervert. But yeah, we are. Ever since Buu, he’s changed.”</p><p>“I’ve noticed that too! He’s still grumpy but it’s different now. He seems happy. And when we train, he talks about you guys.”</p><p>“Huh? What does he say?”</p><p>“Like, ‘I have to be back home soon for dinner to spend time with Bulma.’ ‘I train like this for my family.’ Stuff like that.” Goku finished his coffee and placed the mug in the sink. “That sure hit the spot! Thanks Bulma. Are you coming back out now?”</p><p>Bulma drained her own cup. Her head still ached, but she felt better emotionally. She at least felt ready to be around people. “Yeah, I am. And Goku? Thanks for telling me. About what Vegeta says to you.”</p><p>Goku stared at her, utterly clueless, and clearly had no idea why she was thanking him. “Um, sure!”</p><p>When the pair rejoined the party, Goku, unsurprisingly, scampered away to get more barbecue. Vegeta was standing off to the side of the balcony, an invisible buffer between him and everyone else. They knew he needed his space. <em>I can make him attend the party, but I can’t make him enjoy the party.</em> She approached her wonderfully surly husband, his arms crossed (naturally) as he watched the sunset. Their friends would be leaving soon. Many of them had small children to get tucked into their beds. “Hey, you. Enjoying the sunset?”</p><p>Vegeta grunted. “Earth can be a very beautiful place.”</p><p>“I’m glad you made this planet your home, Vegeta.”</p><p>“As am I, Woman.”</p><p>“And knowing you protect it, and our family... thank you, Vegeta.” Bulma touched his arm lightly. She wasn’t going to try and hold his hand when they were surrounded by people.</p><p>“I always will,” he replied quietly.</p><p>The two watched the sunset together, her hand resting lightly on his arm, and though they were in a crowd of people talking and laughing, it seemed to Bulma that they were the only ones there.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Caffeine and Shower Sex</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Yeah. I wanted to write some more smut. Enjoy! :)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all again for the lovely comments and kudos! We're nearing the end and I appreciate all of the support. And have a wonderful Halloween!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The annual Capsule Corp. Winter Gala was tomorrow evening. An elaborate celebration of the holiday season, it was a gift from her family to thank their investors. When she was a little girl, she thought it was magical. Sometimes, she still did. The company’s banquet hall was decorated with lit candles and beautiful ornaments. Her parents spared no expense to thrill their partygoers. Their guests dressed impeccably in the latest fashions.</p><p>Bulma wanted to look perfect. Stunning. She had a more active role in the company than she ever had before, and, dammit, she wanted to impress these people. Bulma was honest enough about herself to admit she could be shallow. Her appearance mattered to her. Even when she was roughing it (well, relatively) with Goku when she was younger, she took pride in the way she looked. She knew she was beautiful. Why not look as attractive as possible? Especially when so many eyes would be upon her?</p><p>But this morning, she had tried on twenty-three dresses, and she hated them all.</p><p>They didn’t fit her figure the same way they used to. They clung to her in uncomfortable places, and certainly didn’t accentuate her curves the way she remembered.</p><p>She sighed at the pile of dresses on her bed as she tossed another to join them. Bulma knew how ridiculous she was being. The dresses were incredibly expensive and made especially for her. And she was being a brat.</p><p>“I don’t like the way I look in any of these.”</p><p>“So buy more.” It was early in the morning and Vegeta was still finishing his coffee. <em>Caramel creamer. Of course.</em> He held his mug in one hand while he flipped through the pages of a magazine in his lap with the other. Vegeta was more focused on reading than her fashion escapades. The man was a voracious reader. Bulma had the impression it was a hobby he was not allowed to indulge often in the PTO. He likedly didn’t have time. Now that he had adjusted to life on Earth and could relax (<em>a little bit</em>), he read quite often. Her own coffee mug was sitting on the bedside table. She'd forgotten to drink it and it was likely lukewarm now.</p><p>Bulma posed and gazed at herself in the wall-length mirror. She put her hands on her hips and turned slowly, studying herself critically. Clad only in her bra and panties, she could clearly see the faults in her body that irritated her so. Her stomach that was no longer flat. Her breasts were larger and certainly hung lower than they had a few years ago. “It doesn’t matter, Vegeta. The dresses aren’t the problem.”</p><p>“And what does that mean?” He was still only giving her half of his attention, which irritated her. And she knew her irritation was unreasonable. <em>The man isn’t a mind reader. He doesn’t know how upset I am about this. </em></p><p>“I’m the problem.” Bulma sighed and turned away from the mirror. She didn’t want to look at herself anymore. Flopping on their bed, she pushed the dresses out of the way with her foot so she could stretch out comfortably and mope. She took her coffee mug from the table and sadly drank it. It wasn't warm whatsoever, and that made her even grumpier.</p><p>She was startled momentarily as she heard Vegeta’s coffee mug slam on the table. She was a bit surprised he didn't break the mug or the table. “This is that damned clown’s fault.”</p><p>“Well, it certainly didn’t help to hear I have saggy boobs.” Bulma rubbed her forehead with her unoccupied hand. She could sense the onset of a headache. The <em>instant transmission incident</em> had happened four days ago, and she couldn’t put it out of her thoughts. “What an idiot. I know he didn’t mean anything malicious, but seriously, who says something like that?” Bulma finished drinking her coffee and placed the mug back on their table. She was probably going to have to get a second cup soon. She could sense it.</p><p>Vegeta snorted. “Kakarot does. Because he’s a dumbass.” Her husband closed his magazine and tossed it on the table next to his coffee mug. He pushed the pile of dresses to the floor and sat next to Bulma in their bed, resting with his back on his pillow.</p><p>“Vegeta, do you know how expensive those dresses are?”</p><p>“Do you know how much I don’t care?”</p><p>Bulma sighed. “One of these days, I’m going to make you get a job.”</p><p>“Enough of your idle threats. If our positions were reversed, you would tell me to talk to you. So talk.”</p><p>Bulma sat up. Out of nervousness, she played with a stray blue wisp of hair. It was her telltale tic, and Vegeta knew it too. “Doesn’t my aging bother you?”</p><p>He frowned in confusion. “What do you mean? I’m older than you are.”</p><p>“But... you don’t look it. You don’t seem a day over twenty-five. And I do. I’m starting to look a lot older than you.”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“It’s embarrassing! When I’m fifty years old, you’ll look thirty!”</p><p>“I don’t care what you look like.”</p><p>Bulma’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “And what is that supposed to mean? I would choose my next words carefully if I were you.”</p><p>Vegeta shifted awkwardly. It was truly impressive how uncomfortable he could appear in such a soft bed when he was nervous. “You are as beautiful to me today as you were when we first met. It does not matter to me how old you are. You have changed physically but you are still beautiful.” He glanced away, a faint blush on his cheeks.</p><p>Bulma smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate it. I just worry I won’t be as attractive to you when I’m an old lady,” she teased.</p><p>Vegeta leaned across their bed and put his hand gently on her cheek. “Be assured, it doesn’t matter how old you are, Woman. I’ll always want to fuck you.” And he kissed her.</p><p>Bulma had told 18 and Chi-Chi how different Vegeta was behind closed doors, but she knew they didn’t believe her. How could a man so seemingly gruff be tender and loving when they were alone? How could a man so strict with his son in public play with his hair and patiently help him with his homework in the evening? She didn’t know.</p><p>She deepened the kiss and closed her eyes. <em>Kami, I love this man.</em> He pulled away from her, and before she could ask if something was wrong, he had moved to her side of the bed with his freaky Saiyan speed and swept her up in his arms, bridal style. “I haven’t had my morning shower yet. And I intend for you to join me.”</p><p><em>Oooo! Shower sex.</em> Bulma put her arms around his neck and snuggled close to his warm chest as he carried her into the couple’s bathroom. It was a frigid December morning and her husband’s warmth was comforting. He lightly placed her on the floor, and Bulma’s toes instinctively curled from the cold tile floor. Vegeta slid the shower door open and motioned for her to go in. Unclasping her bra and slipping out of her panties, she stepped into the shower. She shivered. It was chilly. And she was pretty horny.</p><p>Vegeta slipped out of his sweatpants and joined her in the shower. Sliding the door shut, he turned the warm water on. When he turned to his wife, she could see the desire he had for her in his black eyes. And then he was on her, kissing her lips roughly, his calloused hands softly running over her body. Bulma eagerly kissed him back, their tongues dancing together. She gripped the back of his head, enjoying the sensation of his normally spiky hair lying flat on his back. Bulma heard him growl deep in his throat. She knew his desires as well as her own, understood his needs and how he enjoyed to be touched.</p><p>He lowered his head and sucked on her aroused nipples. “Your breasts are damned perfect,” he mumbled. She laughed as she rested her head on the back of the shower wall. As he continued to lap at her nipple, one of his hands slowly trailed down her body. He traced over one of her breasts, around her bellybutton, and finally, agonizingly slow, to her clit. His fingers teased her, playing with her. He slipped two of his fingers inside of her, stroking her.</p><p>Bulma reached out to take his cock in her hands, and he gently batted her hand away. “Allow me to do all of the work,” he whispered in her ear. <em>Well, if you insist.</em> Bulma relaxed her back against the shower wall. His spare hand kneaded her breasts. His mouth was at her neck, alternating between kissing and gently biting her.</p><p>The heat from the shower and the sensation of wet skin only heightened Bulma’s arousal. Sensing she was close to climaxing, Vegeta took his fingers from her and filled her with his length. He took her small hands in his against the shower wall and their fingers entwined as her husband fucked her. She moaned with pleasure as he quickened his rhythm inside of her. Bulma dug her nails into his hands as he squeezed them tight, which only made him fuck her harder. When she orgasmed, he kissed her roughly, muffling a contented sigh as pleasure coursed through her. And when he came inside of her, he threw his head back in ecstasy, letting water and her fingers course through his soft hair.</p><p>When they were satisfied, the couple held each other tightly, enjoying the feel of each other and the warm water. Bulma could feel their hearts beating together at a slightly quickened pace. Tucking her head under his chin, she sighed contentedly. She never grew tired of feeling his strong arms wrap protectively around her small body.</p><p>“Was that enough proof that I’m attracted to you, Woman?” She didn’t have to see his expression to know that infuriatingly smug grin was plastered on it.</p><p>“I don’t know, Badman. Prove it to me again.” And she kissed him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Coffee with the Prince(s)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bulma and Vegeta share a cup of coffee with Future Trunks before he leaves for the final time.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks again for all of the wonderful comments and kudos. :-) You guys are the best! I have the rest of the fic plotted and aim to finish it in the next few weeks.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Future Trunks was so different from her own Trunks. Her son from the future was much more cautious and tactful. He considered before he acted. He was rational and gentle. <em>Gohan’s influence.</em> Her son in the present was more rash. A little arrogant and prideful. He tended to jump into any situation without a thought to his well-being. He was confident in his success. <em>Vegeta’s influence.</em></p><p>Bulma smiled to herself. She was proud of them both.</p><p>As different as they were, the similarities were undeniable. A fierce protectiveness for humanity and for defending those who needed it. She liked to think it was her and the future version of herself that instilled these qualities in their children.</p><p>She was going to miss Future Trunks so much.</p><p>Of course, Panchy had insisted on cooking them an incredible breakfast before they saw Mai and Trunks off. Bulma didn’t know where her mother consistently found the energy to cook for Saiyans. Her Trunks had already demolished his breakfast and ran away from the table to play video games. Mai had delicately finished her meal (obviously not used to a pack of Saiyans eating together) and said she needed a bit of air before the trip. She was nervous, and Bulma couldn’t blame her. She would have felt the same.</p><p>“This coffee is delicious, Mom! I’ve really missed coffee.”</p><p>Bulma smiled. She took many things for granted that Trunks wasn’t used to, including a cheap coffeemaker and coffee grounds. “Thanks. It’s no trouble.”</p><p>“Did you enjoy the caramel creamer?” It was such an innocent question, but coming from Vegeta, it practically sounded like an interrogation.</p><p>“Yeah, I did. Thanks, Father.”</p><p>Vegeta nodded approvingly, drinking his coffee.  Loaded with creamer. <em>Of course. The man had never had a cavity despite his sugar consumption. Maddening.</em> “It is the superior flavor.”</p><p>Bulma had to hide her grin behind her own coffee mug. Her husband took coffee creamers so very seriously. “Did you forget about your love affair with pumpkin spice?” she teased.</p><p>“I did no such thing!” he snapped. “It is not the appropriate season for pumpkin spice.”</p><p>“Okay, Badman.”</p><p>Vegeta glared at her over his coffee mug. She winked in return. <em>Shit. Seated around the table, chatting over coffee, we might actually look like a normal family.</em></p><p>“I really appreciate all the things you’ve packed for me, Mom. Everyone will appreciate the supplies.”</p><p>“Not a problem.” She waved away his thanks. “We’re practically overflowing with capsules here.”</p><p>“Father, do they have anything like coffee in space?”</p><p>Vegeta shook his head. “Yet another terrible thing about space. A lack of delicious caffeine.”</p><p>Trunks finished his drink and placed it on the kitchen table. “I don’t think I ever told you. Mom said she used to drink a lot of coffee with you, Father.” He stared at his empty mug. Bulma could tell he was nervous to discuss his mother with Vegeta.</p><p>Vegeta raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”</p><p>“Yeah. She said she felt like you two became closer. Sharing coffee and talking with each other.”</p><p>“I have to go check some things with the time machine.” Vegeta abruptly stood from the table, leaving his coffee unfinished. He practically ran out of the kitchen door to the safety of the outdoors and silence.</p><p>
  <em>Sigh.</em>
</p><p>Bulma understood. It bothered her husband that he had treated the future version of her so poorly and had never apologized to her. He'd died before he had the opportunity. The gnawing guilt ate at his heart. And he had no way to make things right with Bulma in the future.</p><p>Still, it would have been nice if he had stuck around, considering Trunks was going to leave them for good. “Trunks, I’m sorry he did that. Don’t take it personally.”</p><p>“It’s okay. I sort of expected it. I was talking about emotions and all.”</p><p>Mother and son shared a smile. “You definitely know your father.”</p><p>Trunks glanced out the kitchen window in Vegeta’s direction. His father was currently leaning against a tree, arms crossed, apparently lost in his thoughts. <em>Checking out the time machine, my ass.</em> “I’ve been meaning to ask you something about Father.”</p><p>“Why he’s not such an asshole anymore? I can tell you've noticed."</p><p>Trunks shifted uncomfortably. “Well... yeah.”</p><p>She leaned her elbows on the kitchen table and took a deep breath. She placed her mug down and clasped her hands together. It wasn’t exactly her favorite thing to reminisce about. “It’s a long story. But he died fighting against Buu. When he died, he had turned his back on me and his family. He chose evil again because of his pride. And then he was brought back from Hell. I guess, once he was alive again, he realized how selfish he had been. He realized how painful it was to lose people he loved. Hell felt like an eternity to him, separated from us and tortured. And... it changed him.”</p><p>Trunks looked stunned by her words. Which, considering how strange the story was, was completely understandable. <em>That's my life. A series of very strange events.</em> “Well, that explains things.”</p><p>Bulma nodded. “It was one of the worst times of my life. But we made it through together. And now...” She let her words trail off. <em>Now he shows he cares. Now he shows he loves us.</em> She knew Trunks understood what a difficult man his father was, and it wasn't easy for him to show affection.</p><p>“Mom wanted to come back with me and visit him,” Trunks replied softly. “When I told her how he reacted when I was killed by Cell, she thought it showed that she was right. That he was a good person, underneath the anger and the loneliness. I think she would have been proud to see what he’s become.”</p><p>“She would have been. But not half as proud as she would have been of you.”</p><p>Trunks stared at his mother, tears in his eyes. “Mom, can I hug you?”</p><p>“Of course you can.”</p><p>They both stood and Trunks practically tackled her in a hug. She was going to miss his hugs, but it brought her some comfort to know another version of herself would enjoy them soon. “Thanks, Mom. I couldn’t have done this without you. Or without Father.”</p><p>“Of course. We’d do anything for you. And I’m going to miss the hell out of you.” She had known he was leaving for the past two days, but it didn’t make this easier. She had been thinking of her future self often since Trunks had returned. How hard her life must have been. And so lonely. But she was strong. She had to be. And the last thing she saw was the face of her long-dead best friend, about to murder her. The terror and confusion she must have felt. Bulma blinked tears away. <em>Shit. Stop that. He doesn’t need to see you crumble right now.</em> “Your mom is going to be so happy to see you.”</p><p>“Not as happy as I’ll be.” Trunks held her tightly.</p><p>After a moment, the two parted. Bulma looked out the kitchen window and saw Future Mai valiantly attempting pleasant small-talk with Vegeta. From what she could see, it wasn’t going particularly well. Vegeta was digging the toe of his boot into the ground and shrugging. A lot. “We should probably go rescue your father. Not to mention Mai.”</p><p>“Yeah. I don’t know who that conversation is more painful for.”</p><p>“Goku and the others will be here soon. Do you have everything packed?”</p><p>“Yes, Mom.”</p><p>“All the capsules?”</p><p>“Yes, Mom.”</p><p>“And the clothes?”</p><p>Trunks rolled his eyes (looking very much like her own Trunks), and Bulma realized that was her cue to stop harassing him. “Yes, Mom.”</p><p>“Okay, mister. But if you forgot a capsule in your room, that’s on you!" She waggled her finger at him. "Are you ready?”</p><p>He looked so strong and confident. He’d been through so much, and still managed to smile and believe in the promise of a better future. ”Yeah. I am.”</p><p>And she knew he was. He was ready for anything.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Styrofoam and Surprise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bulma and Vegeta get a surprise. Again.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all again for the comments and kudos! I read every single comment, and they make me smile :) I'll likely wrap this one up in the next week. I hope you enjoy reading the chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He was frustrated. So was she.</p><p>“What’s taking so long?” Vegeta growled.</p><p>“We just have to be patient,” Bulma reminded him. Again. “I know it isn’t easy.”</p><p>“You're damned right it isn’t.” Vegeta paced in the small examining room. The room was only about eight feet long and his shoes had touched every inch of it. He alternated between crossing his arms and scowling and putting his hands in his pockets and scowling. Bulma could see the emotions underlying his anger. He was worried about her.</p><p>Bulma grimaced. She was surprised and grateful he asked to accompany her to the doctor, but his anxiety was fueling her own. She needed to give him something to do. Something to to focus on that wasn’t her. “Hey, honey? There was some coffee in the waiting room. Why don’t you go get yourself some? You can bring a cup back to me. That would help me feel better.”</p><p>Vegeta nodded. “Very well.”</p><p>After he left, Bulma exhaled. Loudly. Her husband was uncharacteristically a bundle of nerves. If there was a problem he felt he couldn’t solve, it made him frustrated. Vegeta grew up using aggression as a solution. Whenever Trunks was sick in bed, he was a complete jerk. When she was stressed about her workday, it made him want to hit something. She understood. This made her want to hit something too. <em>But it would help if I knew what the problem was.</em> Bulma lay back on the examination table, the white paper gown crinkling around her. She tried to relax. She took a few deep breaths. <em>I’m as comfortable as I can be, I guess. And that’s not saying much.</em> She folded her arms on her stomach and stared blankly at the white, sterile light above her.</p><p>She hated this clinical, impersonal room.</p><p>Bulma had been... off lately. She was exhausted. Crippling migraines she initially attributed to stress were recurring. And the thought of food repulsed her. She sighed to herself. Bulma just wanted answers. Even if she didn’t like the answers, it was better to know. The nurse had drawn blood from her and asked for a urine sample, and she was sure that running the tests was what was taking so much time.</p><p>“Bulma?”</p><p>Vegeta’s gravelly voice at the door interrupted her anxious thoughts. She sat up and slid off the table, muttering to herself as her socks slipped a bit on the slick floor, and opened the door for him. Bulma hadn't wanted to drink coffee in weeks (<em>weird, huh?</em>), and she didn't really want what he was bringing her, but she didn’t want to let him know that. She smiled as she took the warm, Styrofoam cup from him, sipping it gratefully. “Thanks. This helps.”</p><p>Vegeta closed the door behind him and he plopped in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to the examination table. “This coffee tastes like dirt.” He scowled at the liquid as it swirled around the cup. “Disgusting.”</p><p>“Hah. Yep, it’s pretty terrible. Better than nothing, I suppose.” Bulma steeled herself and drank from the cup. He had sweetened it for her and added some instant creamer, but the awful taste of the burnt coffee drowned out any other flavor. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“Not really,” Vegeta admitted. “I want to speak to the doctor and get the hell out of here.”</p><p>“Believe me, I completely understand.” Bulma caught his gaze and smiled at him. “Thanks for coming.”</p><p>“Well, you are my wife, aren’t you?” Vegeta responded drily.</p><p>“I know. But you didn’t have to. And I appreciate it.”</p><p>He nodded at her, and she knew that was a Vegeta ‘you’re welcome.’</p><p>A light knock at the door caused Bulma’s anxiety to intensify, curling in her stomach. She ordered herself to be calm. <em>You’re Bulma Briefs. You deal with shit. You’ll be okay.</em></p><p>The doctor poked her head in. “Bulma?” she asked quietly. “How are you feeling?” Doctor Hillien was smiling. Bulma wasn’t sure if that was a good thing <em>(You’re fine and perfectly healthy! Just working too hard!</em>) or a bad thing (<em>You have something incurable and terminal and I’m going to smile to help you feel better about it!</em>). Bulma had been visiting Doctor Hillien for the past several years. She was a tough, middle-aged woman. And she handled Vegeta and his temper well. Bulma appreciated her doctor’s blunt attitude and the respect for the heiress’ family and their privacy. She entered the room, armed with clipboards and a binder, and closed the door quietly behind her.</p><p>“Okay, I guess.” Bulma’s hands gripped the small coffee cup, steadying herself. She tried to smile. It didn't work.</p><p>“Will you skip the conversation and tell us what the damned tests results are?” Vegeta snapped. He wasn’t patient in the best of circumstances.</p><p>Doctor Hillien regarded him condescendingly, pushing her glasses up on her nose. “Oh, hello, Vegeta. Concerned about your wife? Very sweet.”</p><p>“Just get on with it!”</p><p>The doctor turned her attention to Bulma. “Congratulations are in order, Bulma.” The smile became even broader. The woman was practically beaming. “You’re pregnant.”</p><p>Bulma’s Styrofoam cup and terrible drink fell to the floor.</p><p>Vegeta choked on his coffee.</p><p>“What the fuck? But... I’m on birth control! And I’m too old!” Bulma sputtered. She stared helplessly at the spilled coffee pooling on the floor. “And now I’ve made a mess! Now there’s coffee everywhere!”</p><p>She glanced over at Vegeta, who had placed his own cup on the physician’s computer table. She had half expected him to spit his coffee out. He looked understandably shocked. “What? Are you certain?” Vegeta demanded.</p><p>Doctor Hillien nodded. “Yes. I’m certain. I can see this is a bit of a surprise. I’ll give you some privacy and come back in a few minutes. But I promise you, Bulma, women older than you have had healthy pregnancies. You have access to the best medical care available and we’ll take good care of you and the baby. I’ll give you some time.” The doctor left her clipboard and the binder on her computer desk table, and then the couple was alone.</p><p>“Holy shit,” Bulma mumbled to herself. “I’m going to have a baby.” It did explain the symptoms. She just hasn’t considered the possibility. “Holy shit. What are we going to do?”</p><p>Vegeta leaned over the doctor’s sink and grabbed paper towels. Squatting on the floor in front of her, he sopped up the coffee. The paper towels were the same quality as the coffee, and he cursed to himself as the coffee was ever so slowly absorbed. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“Vegeta, I’m over forty years old!” she protested. “I’m too fucking old! Chi-Chi and I are almost the same age, and she’s a grandmother!” She was well aware that her voice was becoming frantically high.</p><p>“So?” Vegeta finished cleaning up her mess, throwing away the discarded cup and paper towels. He washed the coffee from his hands and glanced at her. He was remarkably unconcerned, and for some reason, that upset her more. “The doctor said it wouldn’t be an issue.”</p><p>“But I'm on the pill!”</p><p>“This happened with Trunks, did it not? And, Woman, we fuck like rabbits.” He gave her a quick smirk.</p><p>“Why aren’t you freaking out? I’m freaking out!” Bulma wailed.</p><p>He leaned against the sink counter and stared at her, his expression unreadable. “Why are you so upset?”</p><p>“Do you remember how terrible my pregnancy with Trunks was? Of course you don’t.” She knew it was unfair of her to remind him of something that happened over a decade ago, but she couldn’t restrain herself. “It was fucking miserable. And the delivery was horrific, Vegeta. You weren’t there. I did it by myself. I was lonely and emotional and depressed and —“</p><p>“I know,” he responded quietly. He looked away awkwardly.</p><p>“I don’t want to go through that again, Vegeta!” Bulma hid her face in her hands and she cried. She was overwhelmed and emotional. She hated the crinkly paper gown and the uncomfortable examination table. <em>How could this have happened?</em> Her first pregnancy had been hellish and she had no desire to repeat it. Vegeta had told her multiple times he wasn’t interested in more children. Their lives were too chaotic, too dangerous. She accepted that he would leave her months at a time to train. He was a Saiyan. It's what they do. And she didn’t want to go through a difficult pregnancy alone while her husband was training Kami knows where on another planet. Again. “I can’t do this. And I know you don't want to.” Her voice sounded small and weak. So unlike her.</p><p>She could hear Vegeta’s sneakers moving towards her across the linoleum. Bulma peeked through her fingers and could see his feet on the floor in front of her. He placed a finger gently under her chin. “Bulma. I want you to look at me.”</p><p>Vegeta angled her head so she could see his face. Hesitantly, she moved her hands from her eyes. When she saw his gentle expression, the soft smile he only let her see when they were alone, the anxiety in her stomach began to uncoil.<em> He’s not upset. He's not angry. He’s... calm?</em> He moved his hand to caress her cheek, and she leaned her face into his open palm. Slowly, she caught her breath. He wiped her tears away with his thumb.</p><p>“You can do this. With me. I won’t leave you. Not again.”</p><p>“Huh? But your training with Whis...”</p><p>“It is not as important to me as you and our family. Until that child is safely in your arms, I will be by your side. You have my word.” He leaned into her and kissed her forehead softly. “I didn't anticipate this, but that doesn't mean I don't want it. I fucked up the first time. I missed feeling our son kick for the first time in your stomach. I missed Trunks’ birth, his first feeding, his first steps. I will not make the same mistake twice. I do not intend to miss anything with our second child.”</p><p>Bulma scooted over on the table and he sat next to her. Bulma lay her head on his shoulder and he took her small hand in his, stroking her knuckles with his thumb. “Thank you, Vegeta. I love you.”</p><p>Vegeta rested his head against hers. “And I love you, Woman.” He thought for a moment. “When should we tell Trunks and your parents?”</p><p>“Let’s wait a few weeks until the baby is large enough for an ultrasound. Then we can show them the picture and let them know.”</p><p>“Very well. It will be good for Trunks to have a sibling. Perhaps it will make him more responsible.”</p><p>Bulma giggled to herself. “We can hope. Maybe that little twerp will start remembering his chores.”</p><p>Vegeta snorted. “Don’t get too carried away.”</p><p>Bulma snuggled closer against her husband, breathing in his comforting, strong presence.  “Thanks, Vegeta. I’m okay now. You know, I’m actually feeling excited. We’re gonna have a baby! A precious, cute, snuggly baby!”</p><p>“Indeed we are, Woman.”</p><p>“I’m sorry for what I said. About you not being there the first time.”</p><p>“Why? It was the truth.”</p><p>“Yeah, but it isn’t fair for me to throw that at you. Especially considering how much you’ve changed and the father and husband you are now.”</p><p>Vegeta cleared his throat awkwardly. <em>Oh no! Emotions!</em> “No apology is necessary.”</p><p>The couple sat in comfortable silence.</p><p>He was content. And so she was she.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. A Cup of Self-Doubt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After the Tournament of Power, Vegeta is feeling a bit cranky. Well, crankier than usual.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Next to the last one - we're almost to the end! Thanks again for all of the comments and kudos. :-)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="a3s aiL">
  <p>She knew him better than he knew himself. She could tell he was more withdrawn than usual, a tad angrier. He had been that way since the Tournament of Power. A week passed with his surly (okay, surlier) attitude and she understood. She had given him space. The man has almost died multiple times attempting to save their universe from destruction. That’s a lot to take in. And then another week had passed. She would ask him what was wrong and he would brush her off rudely. “Nothing, Woman.” <em>Bullshit.</em> He pushed himself even harder in the Gravity Chamber, and it reminded Bulma of when he had first arrived on Earth. Reckless, single-minded determination. But what was his goal? She couldn’t answer and he refused to.</p>
  <p>
    <em>Stubborn bastard.</em>
  </p>
  <p>Bulma observed him through the kitchen window as she sipped her morning coffee. Arms crossed, leaning against a tree in the yard, staring at seemingly nothing. And scowling, of course. He probably knew she was staring at him. He just didn't want to interact with her. Miraculously, she had woken before Bulla, and could enjoy her cup in quiet without her daughter’s adorably loud squeals. And the silence also led to her thinking. <em>What is his deal?</em> Her eyes narrowed with annoyance as she studied him. Bulma was many things, but she wasn’t very patient. And her patience was at its end.</p>
  <p>“Heya, Bulma!”</p>
  <p>Bulma shrieked and almost dropped her mug. “Dammit, Goku! No Instant Transmission into my house! How many times do I have to tell you?”</p>
  <p>“But I didn’t!” he whined in response. “I used the door! You just didn’t hear me come in.”</p>
  <p>“It’s true, Aunt Bulma.” <em>Sweet little Goten.</em> He poked his head around the corner, nervous to incur the Wrath of Bulma.</p>
  <p>Bulma sighed. “Fine. Whatever. What do you two want so early? You know I'm not a morning person.”</p>
  <p>Goten sidled up next to his father and Goku rustled his hair. “Trunks and I are leaving early to explore a mountain and Dad wanted to spar with Vegeta.”</p>
  <p>In spite of the early hour, Bulma couldn't help but smile. “That’s fine, Goten. I can't say no to that cute face! Goku, go ahead to the Gravity Chamber. I’ll go fetch Vegeta.”</p>
  <p>“Aw, why can’t we spar outside? It’s so nice!”</p>
  <p>“No way, mister!” Bulma snapped. “Do you know how many times the neighbors have called the cops to complain about the noise you two make?”</p>
  <p>“Geez. Fine. Come on, buddy!” Goten stared adoringly at his father. Bulma’s heart melted at the sight of them. “Where is the Chamber again? This place is like a maze!” Bulma could hear Goku’s confused voice as the two walked through through Capsule Corp.‘s hall. <em>Sigh. He really needs a map. But could he follow the map? That’s a good question.</em></p>
  <p>Bulma gritted her teeth. <em>One cup of coffee and one uncomfortable conversation, coming up.</em> She poured a second cup of coffee for Prince Grumpy, making sure to add plenty of caramel creamer. Bulma pulled open the kitchen door, caught it with her purple slippered foot, and held it open while she maneuvered herself and two cups of coffee through the doorway. <em>And not a drop spilled!</em></p>
  <p>It was a chilly morning and she regretted not wearing her coat. Her robe did little to keep her warm. But, Kami, despite the frigid air, it was beautiful outside. It was a bit early for Capsule Corp. employees to arrive, and she was grateful. Bulma knew this conversation was going to be a delicate one, and she wanted privacy with her husband.</p>
  <p>“I’ve had a cup already this morning,” he mumbled as she approached. His gravelly voice sounded weary and he had barely begun the day. He barely seemed to acknowledge her.</p>
  <p>“Well, it looks like you could use another.” Bulma handed him the mug and he took it in his gloved hands. Vegeta was already in his armor at 6:30 in the morning, which was not unusual for him. He never slept well and being a soldier had instilled in him the habit of putting on his armor when he rolled out of bed.</p>
  <p>“Very well. Thank you.”</p>
  <p>She nodded. “Goku’s here to spar with you.”</p>
  <p>“I know. I could feel when that idiot and his brat when they arrived.”</p>
  <p>“But before you do that, we need to talk.” Bulma stood next to him, challenging him to meet her gaze. When he did, she could see the wariness in his eyes. Even though Vegeta had become so much better about allowing himself to feel emotion, he could still be hesitant to let her become close. He still struggled to keep his walls down.</p>
  <p>“We have nothing to speak about right now,” he grumbled.</p>
  <p>“Bullshit. You’ve been acting like an asshole since the Tournament of Power. You’re angry, you won’t talk to me, and you won’t even spend time with the kids. You train all fucking day.”</p>
  <p>“So what if I do?” Vegeta took a long sip of coffee, regarding her calmly to see her reaction.</p>
  <p>Bulma stomped her foot (<em>slipper</em>) in frustration. “It’s not like you! Everything was going so well! And now you barely speak to your family!”</p>
  <p>Vegeta shrugged and looked away.</p>
  <p>“The last time you pulled this shit and refused to talk, you know what happened.” <em>Low blow, Bulma Briefs.</em> But he would not respond to her. And when he refused to speak and acted like a child digging his heels in the ground out of stubbornness, it was infuriating.</p>
  <p>Her husband’s head snapped back as if she had slapped him. His black eyes danced with anger. “I told you I didn’t wish to speak about that ever again.” His voice was low, quiet, and hurt. And maybe a bit dangerous.</p>
  <p>“You did the same thing back then. You pushed me away and refused to talk. I don’t want to assume the worst, but you’re not telling me anything at all. So talk.” Bulma sipped her coffee, the warm drink keeping her grounded and calm. She didn’t know how he would react to her words, but she doubted it would be pleasant.</p>
  <p>To her surprise, there was no explosion of anger. Vegeta shifted his weight uncomfortably, his annoyance lost in embarrassment. “I wasn’t strong enough in the Tournament.”</p>
  <p>“Is this about Goku again?” she angrily retorted. “I thought all of the bitterness was over. I can’t go through...”</p>
  <p>“Dammit, this has nothing to do with Kakarot!” he snarled at her. “I could not protect you. I could not protect our children. Do you know how ashamed I felt when I was knocked out? All I could see was you, encouraging me to continue, believing in me. Then I failed. I disappointed my family. Hell, I disappointed the universe. And do you know what’s even more insulting? I had to rely on Frieza to save my wife and children. And that, Woman, is why I’ve been an asshole lately.” He turned away, seemingly ashamed of himself and his emotional outburst.</p>
  <p>“Oh. Shit.” It was rare Bulma had nothing to say. Birds flew above them in the beautiful autumn sky. Stray leaves gently fell from the tree above them, landing silently on the ground. Everything around them was beautiful and serene and blissfully unaware of Vegeta’s wounded pride and the helplessness he felt. Including apparently her. “Oh, Vegeta...”</p>
  <p>“I don’t want your pity,” he replied quietly. And firmly.</p>
  <p>“Please. When have I ever pitied you? You know me better than that. Just be quiet and let me talk!” she ordered him. “You fought together as a team. All of you. Krillin told him what you did. You gave Goku the last bit of energy you had so he could stand and fight. If you hadn’t done that, everything would have been over. The Vegeta that first came to Earth would never have helped Goku. That Vegeta... he would have been too selfish. His pride wouldn’t have let him do it. And that’s not the Vegeta that’s with me now. Now you have a family you love and friends who have your back. You’re part of the team.”</p>
  <p>“Tch." Vegeta scoffed and shook his head. "I wasn’t one of the last standing. I seem to have failed as a teammate.”</p>
  <p>“Absolutely not. You kept your friends in the fight.”</p>
  <p>“I don’t have any friends!” Vegeta snapped.</p>
  <p>Bulma laughed. Vegeta blushed. “Okay, Badman. If that helps maintain your tough guy image. My point is... I believe in you. I trust you.” The blush deepened. “And you’ll always protect your family. You’ll find a way. You’re not alone anymore. You don’t have to rely on just yourself.”</p>
  <p>For a moment, he did not respond. “And that makes me feel weak,” he admitted.</p>
  <p>Bulma nodded. She squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, and he glanced at her. “I can understand that. It’s not how you were raised. But learning to fight alongside other people is a kind of strength, too.”</p>
  <p>“Hmph.” Vegeta finished his coffee and stared at the empty mug. Remembering his loss at the Tournament? Remembering his past, where relying on others was a weakness? Bulma suspected it was both. “Perhaps you’re correct.”</p>
  <p>“I’m always correct. I’m a genius.”</p>
  <p>Vegeta rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He finished his cup of coffee and handed the empty mug to Bulma. “Now, I need to go beat Kakarot’s face in.”  He hesitated for a moment and looked deeply into her bright blue eyes with a look of gratitude. “Bulma. Thank you.”</p>
  <p>Bulma smiled back at him. “You’re welcome. Have fun on your play date! And don't forget about taking a break for lunch.”</p>
  <p>Vegeta gave Bulma a look of disgust before he turned away. “I do not have play dates with Kakarot, ridiculous Woman!” As he walked away from her, he seemed to stand a little taller and move with confidence he had recently lacked. And it swelled her heart with pride.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Last Cup</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A normal day in the Briefs' household.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And here we are at the end!</p><p>Thank you all for the kudos, the comments, and the bookmarks. I never expected this to be popular as an idea that was sparked by my own caffeine obsession, much less be nominated for an award!!!</p><p>This is the first longer fic I've written in years, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I wanted to keep Bulma and Vegeta close to how they are portrayed canonically while also showing them grow and evolve as people and in their relationship. At the same time, I wanted them to stay true to who they are - independent, stubborn people who never expected to fall in love with each other, and then somehow became inseparable. And I hope I succeeded in that. :-)</p><p>Thank you all for reading.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Almost every morning at 6:20, the Bulla Alarm went off. It was clockwork. Despite the early hour and her exhaustion, Bulma smiled, listening through the monitor to her daughter chirp happily in her crib. She was too young to speak words, but her baby babble was adorable. <em>Trunks’ first word was “mama.” I wonder if Bulla’s will be “daddy.”</em></p><p>Bulma reached for her phone on the bedside table and turned on the camera app. Vegeta always went in the nursery to get his little girl when he heard her awake. He was the first in the family to wake up. Since he had done nothing to help with his other child during the first year, he was eager to contribute to caring for his daughter. And, more importantly, he enjoyed being the first person Bulla saw in the morning.</p><p>Bulma watched the nursery door open and Vegeta step into the room. “Good morning, princess.” At the sound of her father’s voice, Bulla rolled over in the crib, squealing excitedly. Her chubby arms reached out for her daddy. Vegeta reached down and gently held her in his strong arms. “Is my princess hungry?” He smiled, and kissed her gently on the cheek. “Let’s go see your mother.”</p><p>It was the same scene every morning, and she never grew tired of seeing it.</p><p>Vegeta opened the couple’s bedroom door, Bulla smiling happily, her face beaming in a toothless grin. Trunks had generally been a pleasant baby, but he had a stubborn streak. <em>Must get that from his father. Definitely not his mother.</em> Bulla was all sweetness and cuddles. “I believe this belongs to you, Woman.”</p><p>Her husband placed their daughter carefully in her arms. He was so gentle with tiny, fragile Bulla. “Did you change her?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Bulma slipped down a strap of her nightgown, and ravenous Bulla eagerly latched. “Alright, what’s on your schedule today?”</p><p>“Training with Kakarot.”</p><p>“His place or here?”</p><p>“Here.”</p><p>“Let me check my calendar. Wake up Trunks and start up the coffee machine.”</p><p>“On it.”</p><p>Bulma swiped to her phone calendar, adjusting Bulla in her lap. Prepping for a meeting for most of the morning. Then actually having the meeting at 10:30. Quick break for lunch. Next, she would work on designing the new generation of Capsule Corps. cars, which had been a complicated work in progress for the last few weeks. And then a conference with Trunks’ teacher at school.</p><p>After so many years together, the Briefs family had become a well-oiled machine.</p><p>Bulma gazed at the child on her breast. <em>Co-parenting makes the job a hell of a lot easier.</em> Trunks’ first year was marred in her memory by stress and depression. And the impending attack by killer androids certainly didn’t help her mental state. This felt different. She was older, more mature and relaxed with herself and parenthood. Bulla snuggled even closer to her mother, and Bulma’s heart melted.</p><p>Bulma switched Bulla to her left breast, adjusting her grip on her phone. Breastfeeding her second child was much easier. Maybe that just came with experience. Bulma scrolled through her emails. Thankfully, nothing catastrophic had happened since yesterday. No fires to put out first thing in the morning.</p><p>Bulla pulled away and let out a very impressive burp. “You done, princess?” Bulma set her daughter on the floor while she got herself dressed. Bulla was becoming proficient at crawling. <em>And, Kami, she was fast.</em> Bulma dressed in a smart, black suit, resolving to change into something more comfortable after her meeting. “What do you think, baby girl? Is Mommy professional, stylish and beautiful?” Bulla blinked. “I’ll take that as a yes! Come on, you.” Bulla crawled to Bulma’s waiting arms.</p><p>Mealtimes at the Briefs household were barely organized pandemonium. Trunks was growing like a weed and had the Saiyan appetite to match. Vegeta ate like... well, Vegeta. Bulla was beginning her adventure into solid foods. It was a loud, chaotic experience.</p><p>Bulma could smell delicious cooked food and coffee brewing. Her stomach growled.</p><p>“There’s my baby girl!” Panchy exclaimed happily. Bulla was even more spoiled than Trunks. It was apparently possible. Bulma swooped her daughter close to where her mom was sitting. Panchy leaned over and kissed her granddaughter on the head, then tickled her soft chin. So many giggles. Adorable baby giggles.</p><p>“And here’s grandpa!” Bulma’s father smiled gently at Bulla, bouncing her blue curl and grinning.</p><p>Bulma knew better than to expect Trunks to gush over his sister in public. Especially when he was half-asleep. No, that happened behind closed doors, and Trunks didn't realize his parents could hear him. He gave his sister a little wave. “Hey, Bulla.”</p><p>She sat Bulla down in the high chair, strapping her in and sprinkling a handful of Cheerios on her tray. “No throwing them today, lady!”</p><p>Vegeta took a break from shoving bacon in his mouth to point at the counter. “What is that?”</p><p>Bulma followed his gaze to a small machine next to the coffeemaker. “Oh, that? It’s an espresso maker. I bought it to try it out.”</p><p>Vegeta frowned. “I like the old coffeemaker.”</p><p>“I do too! It’s not like I got rid of it! Both machines can coexist in harmony.” <em>Speaking of</em>... Bulma poured herself a cup. She stirred in hazelnut creamer that her husband had helpfully left on the kitchen counter for her. “Don't worry. We’ve had this forever. It’s reliable and makes a damn good cup. I'm not tossing it.”</p><p>Bulma sipped her coffee and studied the old machine. They really had been using it for years. She was attached to it. “Honey? Do you remember the first cup of coffee I made for you?”</p><p>Vegeta scowled. “I barely got to drink any. You poured it out.”</p><p>“You were being an asshole!”</p><p>“I’m still an asshole. You just got used to it.” Vegeta smiled that infuriatingly smug smirk. And, well, he was right.</p><p>“Oh, I remember that!” Panchy perked up. “You two were so funny. Always fighting and squabbling. But your father and I could tell you two cared about each other a long time before you admitted it! Isn’t that right, dear?”</p><p>“Sure.” Bulma’s father was idly drinking his coffee, his attention squarely on the newspaper in front of him.</p><p>Panchy smiled at Trunks. “Your parents were so adorable when they were younger. Always fussing with each other.”</p><p>Trunks looked very confused. “How is that adorable?”</p><p>“Because they were falling in love!”</p><p>“If you say so,” Trunks mumbled.</p><p>Bulma nodded. “You know, Vegeta, the first time I realized I had feelings for you... we were sharing a cup of coffee. That night Yamcha and I broke up and you stayed up with me.”</p><p>Vegeta grunted, the Vegeta way of saying he understood and he remembered the night well, but he was not about to admit that in front of his family. <em>The horror. </em>That was the night Vegeta had become a friend to her instead of an irritating houseguest who tried to order her around and ate all of her family's food.</p><p>“And we had our first kiss after a cup of coffee.”</p><p>Vegeta abruptly turned his head to her, his face bright red with embarrassment as his expression pleaded with her not to say more. He knew as well as she did that their first kiss was also their first time sleeping together. She winked at him. <em>Our secret is safe, Badman.</em> He looked away. Quickly.</p><p>Bulla decided that it was a fine time to being tossing Cheerios across the table. One slapped against Dr. Briefs’ newspaper. Not that he noticed. “Hey! Take those away!” Bulma commanded. Trunks’ hand shot out quickly to grab them and place them out of reach. He was used to this. Bulla whined in protest. Almost imperceptibly, Trunks raised his pointer finger. One of the confiscated Cheerios rose a few inches off the table and began twirling in the air, much to his baby sister’s delight.</p><p>Bulma sipped her coffee. Vegeta was right. She’d grown attached to the clunky old coffee maker. In a strange way, she associated it with their relationship. One of the couple's first, actual conversations was about coffee - sure, it had ended poorly, but look at them now. <em>At least 50% of the time, we aren’t arguing! It used to be 100%!</em> And Vegeta was as addicted to caffeine as she was.</p><p>As a scientist, Bulma had learn to study and observe. And she rested against the counter, hands around her mug, watching her family. Her beautifully weird family.</p><p>Vegeta smiled, his elbows resting on the table, watching his children amuse each other. Trunks would guide the Cheerio close to Bulla, who didn’t have the reflexes or the speed necessary to touch it. When she would grab at it, he would dance it away, much to Bulla’s delight. They were years apart in age but has a bond between each other. And Trunks had rose to the occasion of older sibling. Panchy beamed, enjoying the spectacle of her grandchildren. Even Dr. Briefs had set aside the newspaper.</p><p>Bulma finished her coffee and set the mug in the sink. She gave another look to the old, reliable coffeemaker. It wasn’t a flashy espresso maker. It was loud and grumbled when it made a pot of coffee. But she sure owed a lot to it. <em>Thanks, you cranky old thing.</em></p><p>“Time for daycare, princess.” Bulma grabbed a bagel from the table to eat on the way. Bulla was still light enough to hold in one arm. Ignoring Bulla’s whines of protests, Bulma began to unstrap her. Her daycare was onsite at Capsule Corp., which meant it was a quick walk through the building to do drop-off and pick-up. “Alright, here’s the plan for today. Vegeta, you take Trunks to school. I have to prep. I have a meeting from 10:30 to 11:30, and that means if the daycare needs anything then, you actually have to pick up the phone, Vegeta.” <em>Vegeta eyeroll, right on cue.</em> “You and Goku meet back here at 11:45 for lunch with me since you have a play date.”</p><p>“It is not—“ Vegeta sputtered.</p><p>“Swing by the lab at 3:30. We have a conference with Trunks’ teacher at 4:00.”</p><p>“Am I in—“ Trunks sputtered.</p><p>“No, it’s about the classes you’ll take next year. But if you don’t get ready to be there on time, you know your dad won’t make an excuse for you being late. And then you’ll be in trouble.”</p><p>“Fine, fine.” Trunks pushed his chair back to get his backpack and books. Bulma knew nothing was packed. <em>Unfortunately, he inherited my organizational skills.</em> “Getting ready, Commander Mom.”</p><p>“Well, I’m glad someone recognizes my rank! Vegeta, any questions?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Alright. Say goodbye to Daddy!” Bulla gave her father one of her trademark adorable grins. And he returned it. Without blushing or squirming. <em>Progress.</em> “And we’re off!” Bulma swooped Bulla in the air dramatically. Bulla loved it.</p><p>Bulma hesitated for a moment in the kitchen hallway. She didn’t know why, but her heart told her to look back at her husband.</p><p>He had become so much better at small talk with her parents. She watched him finish his cup of coffee while he lightly chatted with her father about the new Capsule Corp. designs. He could actually carry on conversations instead of grunting disinterestedly at people. <em>Imagine that! </em></p><p>They had gone through so much together.</p><p>She was proud of herself. She was proud of him. And she was proud of the life and the love they had built.</p><p>
  <em>Who would have thought, years ago, this short, mass murdering asshole who invaded the Earth would become this gentle man and father who now protected the planet? Who would have expected an alien prince to be the love of my life? And that this all would have started over a cup or two of coffee?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Not me.</em>
</p><p>Bulma knew better than to grow complacent. More threats would come their way. The Earth never seemed to be at peace for long. But they would be okay. They always were. And for now... it was okay to enjoy the tranquility and quiet.</p><p>Vegeta met her gaze and stared at her curiously. Bulma mouthed<em> I love you</em> to him. He smiled. Not the cocky, arrogant smirk she was so familiar with, but a genuine smile.</p><p>And she knew he loved her too.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>